


violent passions

by junipers



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dom/sub Undertones, Eating Disorders, Enemies to Lovers, Gossip Girl - Freeform, M/M, Minor Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, Social Media AU, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 02:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 69,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15572211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junipers/pseuds/junipers
Summary: A near decade-long rivalry doesn’t just go away because you want to fuck your rival, and maybe vice versa.Follow the lives ofYoon Jeonghan, only son of Yoon Media Holdings family,Choi Seungcheol, heir to C Group, and their group of preppy friends, the golden spoons of Gangnam.When rich kids get bored, things get dangerous.





	1. MATCH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **match.** _noun._ \ ˈmach \  
>  1 a contest between two or more parties  
> 2 a prospective partner in marriage  
> 3 a short slender piece of material tipped with a mixture that produces fire when scratched  
>  _synonyms:_ rival, counterpart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to another fic of unnecessary exposition and details ! you guys should probably know, this drabble fic is my excuse to write jeongcheol smut lol
> 
> rich kids and rivals are my fav aus, enjoy reading !
> 
>  **warning** : turn on creator's style or it'll look nasty

**GANGNAM GIRL**  
@GN_GOSSIP ∙ 3 july 2018  
Choi Seungcheol spotted walking out of the C95s ent building! Is the king finally back in Korea?

[](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/18/13/4b/18134b3cf948db0f1d74712fdb4f7d2b.jpg)[](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/25/19/16/25191615467c093afd82b1a26b68718e.jpg)

**105** replies ∙ **1.5K** retweets ∙ **3.0K** likes

**junah**  
@cyjunah ∙ 23m   
omg he’s finally back from columbia? summer is really a blessing!

 ****replies ∙ ****retweets ∙ **2** likes

**JACK**  
@bqjackie ∙ 40m  
i've been waiting for the day where prince j gets a reality check

 ****replies ∙ **1** retweets ∙ **5** likes

**junhui**  
@june_hui ∙ 1h  
@jh1004 guess what (Eyes )

 **3** replies ∙ ****retweets ∙ **17** likes

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


“Fancy seeing you back in town.”

Seungcheol swivels back towards the voice he hasn’t heard in four years.

 **Yoon Jeonghan** , only son of the CEO to Yoon Media Holdings (YMH), a media conglomerate responsible for _almost_ all the media consumption in South Korea, and his implied rival since high school.

Jeonghan stands there with his posse, several shopping bags in hand, though he holds a little less than the rest of his circle. Seungcheol’s willing to bet his new car that some of the bags in their hands are Jeonghan’s and he got his underlings to carry them for him. He notices that Jeonghan’s previous black bob is no more, instead long blonde hair replaces it. His cheekbones have always been his key feature, but now they seem to have become more defined and his face skinny. Even his collarbones faintly pop out prominently from the baggy button-up.

_He got prettier._

Seungcheol sighs, pocketing his phone. “You’re in my mall, Yoon.”

Jeonghan just tilts his head in a way Seungcheol recognizes. It’s the same tilt he does when the adults berate his choice to model as a career while cooing at his pretty face behind their hypocrite smiles. The look of scrutiny. At least, that was what he knew of Jeonghan when he was in high school. The last time he saw Jeonghan was his face among other models on an ad in New York City, so he assumes that it’s been going well for him.

“Not your mall. _Your father’s_ , Seungcheol. You’re not owner yet.” Jeonghan says, mocking behind his grin as his groupies look on and do nothing to stop him.

But how could they, his family is one of the most influential groups in all of Korea. And he can see that Jeonghan has traded his old friends for a group of fresh faces, at least the majority are familiar faces. Well, except for one person. He meets eyes with a neutral party. Or as neutral as he could be.

“Joshua,” he greets curtly, “I see Jeonghan hasn’t discarded you like Sunday trash yet.”

Jeonghan sneers in full-view this time.

Joshua bows his head briefly, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Childhood friends. Can’t really shake them off, you know?” Joshua stands there politely, stance not particularly hostile nor intimidated. Seungcheol can’t help but admire him a bit.

 **Hong Jisoo** , mostly known as **Joshua**. His dad is the vice president of YMH.

Seungcheol only knows of one person who has been able to remain as Jeonghan’s friend long-term, and that’s Joshua. Social butterfly, prince of Gangnam, Yoon Jeonghan runs the _Roulette Few (just Roulette for short)_ —coined by the Gangnam kids back in junior high as a running joke about Jeonghan’s liking to the constantly switching out of his friends for new ones. It was like watching a game of Russian Roulette, and the way Jeonghan’s friends would go could get _nasty._ The kids liked to joke that Yoon Jeonghan would pick one person a month to humiliate into leaving the group, be it by family exposé or social ostracization. Being part of the Roulette was every Gangnam kid’s dream anyways, because they got popularity and their family always had something to gain from it. But when Jeonghan spun the roulette around, and the wheel lands on you — you had metaphorically put the gun to your own head and chose social suicide. No one had survived the Roulette before, it was only a matter of time until only the few remain.

That was until _Joshua_ came.

His father, who was outsourced from a YMH branch in the states, became vice president in the 7th grade. Suddenly, the Yoon and Hong families become immensely close, though remaining skeptical and cautious over the years.

Of course, Seungcheol didn’t meet Jeonghan until they went to high school together, but still. The rich kids of Gangnam were celebrities in their own right. Seungcheol doesn’t know if the Yoon family thinks the Hong family might try a coup d'état, but what Seungcheol does know, is that Jeonghan thinks of Joshua as his true friend.

Second year of high school, _the big blow_ week. A mole on the cheek, short hair, and some similar looking lips, and everyone was convinced it was Jeonghan giving a blowjob — audio missing. He saw Jeonghan isolate himself from everyone. He trusted no one, contacts wiped completely clean. It was the only time the Roulette completely broke up. Except for Joshua, Jeonghan kept him. When you dump all your friends over a sex tape except one, people make assumptions. Even _mass every sunday_ Joshua would know that. People speculated that Joshua was on the receiving end of that blowjob. Yet he still stayed, and Jeonghan let him. Doesn’t exactly sound like what rivaling families would do. Especially Joshua who comes from a conservative family like the Hong _s_.

The next week, the clip came out with audio. The person in the video wasn’t a boy. It was a girl. And things went back to as they were. It was almost unnerving how quickly Jeonghan bounced back. But he digresses.

“Thought you would’ve upgraded by now. Still look the same as four years ago,” Seungcheol comments offhandedly as his eyes sweep across his friends in their usual stance behind Jeonghan, Joshua at his right-hand side. The formula really doesn’t change, huh.

“Thought the great Choi Seungcheol would finish college sooner,” Jeonghan rebuts, intercepting.

The conversation was a charade after all. Seungcheol’s most frequent past time was arguing with Jeonghan in high school. But only between the two of them, their relationship was a thin blurry line which they danced beyond and back.

“Took you longer than we betted on,” Jeonghan sniffed.

“Betted on me? Why am I not surprised. Seems like the kind of thing your type would do.” Seungcheol says, taking a jab at the type that Jeonghan kept for company.

 **Wen Junhui**. His father founded Mayhua Corporation, a Chinese-Korean conglomerate that got rich and fast in the 2000s by smart investments. Wealthier than Jeonghan, but his twin when it comes to personality and antics. An on and off original of the Roulette. The only known second survivor of the roulette game after Joshua. He comes and goes, but most would consider him part of the inner circle. _JJJ,_ they used to call them.

 **Boo Seungkwan**. His family owns 80% of the noraebang businesses in Seoul. Surprisingly immensely profitable. New addition to Roulette according to last year’s text updates from Wonwoo.

Seungcheol had stopped receiving updates for a few months now. But it surprises him that there are two new faces that he doesn’t recognize. One of them is quite young, almost looks barely legal. Another standing by Wen Junhui was lanky and dressed in more risky fashion than the others. Bright circle glasses and a solid black outfit, ripped with an accented red.

This is a peculiar move since Jeonghan doesn’t usually take in people who weren’t already established. The fact that Seungcheol doesn’t recognize them says something. Jeonghan’s family may not be the richest in Gangnam, but on the totem pole, he’s right there next to Seungcheol. Besides his family background, Yoon Jeonghan as an individual is powerful on his own. His reputation among Gangnam kids speaks more immensely than his money. And that’s the kind of thing people are afraid of.

“We wanted to help Chan practice his driving.” Jeonghan pushes the one of the _unknowns_ to the forefront with his biggest grin.

The mentioned man — boy, really, the one who looks barely legal, shrinks a little under the spotlight.

“Ah,” Jeonghan claps his hands in a mocking realizing, “you must not know. This is Lee Chan. The son of the new Minister of Education, the Deputy Prime Minister.”

Jeonghan has all his teeth out, gleaming like a cocky winner as if he just made a backroom deal and won. Trust Yoon Jeonghan to parade people around like a brand new watch on his wrist. And he is practically wearing Lee Chan as an accessory to gloat to Seungcheol no doubt.

Seungcheol doesn’t let his surprise betray his blank expression, simply humming and nodding to the kid. His eyes naturally shift over to the other newcomer, the lanky one, whose shoulders has Junhui’s arm slung around them. Junhui sees Seungcheol’s gaze and flashes a shark-like grin, almost ecstatically nudging the newcomer forward.

The lanky boy bows. “I’m Xu Minghao. Heard a lot about you.”

Seungcheol arches an eyebrow. He’s a foreigner? The boy stepped slightly behind Jeonghan, nearer his friends after the introduction. Timid. Seungcheol could tell from his type that he was weak willed, didn’t seem the type to survive Jeonghan’s initiation routine, though his clothes told another story. A foreign, new face, that wore bold clothes contrary to his meek personality. A strange choice to weaponize, Yoon Jeonghan.

Jeonghan sighs, “Sorry. He’s new money. Doesn’t know how to introduce himself just yet.” He elbows the younger to clue him in.

“Ah,” Minghao stumbles, seeming to realize there’s something missing from his greeting. “My step-father is the CEO of Seongsoo Capital.”

Jeonghan becomes tight-lipped like an embarrassed parent, “Just address him as your father, Minghao. Rep is important, remember?” He shakes his head in a show of disappointment. “Gangnam Girl is going to eat you up at this rate.”

But Seungcheol knows Jeonghan could probably care less. The Gangnam kids could throw in some nasty gossip and the foreign kid’s reputation would be complete shit. Jeonghan wouldn’t hesitate to throw him out. But Jeonghan likes a real show in public. This is just how the rich lives: behind pretenses.

“Right. Sorry, Hyung. I’ll remember next time.” The poor thing bows his head, retreating into the background. Seungcheol wonders how long this one will last before he gets dumped or humiliated enough to leave.

It throws him off. Jeonghan is a person who _buys_ friends. (More accurately, his friends try to _buy him_ , but semantics.) The door to the Roulette is revolving but incredibly hard to get through. Or rather _endure_. Jeonghan’s hazing isn’t something just anyone can withstand. There’s a reason people playing the Roulette are still in — birds of the same flock. If you want to win the game, you’ve got to play the game.

But bringing the Deputy Prime Minister’s son into his group could be a dangerous move, not to mention new money like Xu Minghao was too weak for Jeonghan to play with.

“Didn’t pick you for one to take in strays,” Seungcheol says.

“Well, people change a lot in four years, Choi Seungcheol.” Jeonghan says, eyes glinting. “Did you?”

He takes one look at Jeonghan’s blonde long hair, shopping bags hanging from his wrists, and his groupies surrounding him like the season’s most wanted new item.

A familiar sight... on a person Seungcheol knows can be so unfamiliar one night.

Remembering four years ago, the small nightclub room and black couch, a clouded and vulnerable expression he wasn’t used to seeing — compared to his cocky, cruel person that faced him every day in high school. Jeonghan’s short black bob with his rosy cheeks staring up at him, uncharacteristically small.

_“Am I loveable,” he asked with eyes glittering._

The Jeonghan now. Wears the same cocky smirk on his lips, but the glint in his eye is no longer defiance, but something questioning, searching. Seungcheol wants to answer, wants to challenge their relationship. But he fears what he might find.

_And just how much have you changed, Yoon Jeonghan?_

“Hyung!” A distant voice shouts.

“Ah... here comes the cousin.” Jeonghan peers behind him.

“Hyung,” Hansol jogs towards them, huffing a bit when he greets Seungcheol. He notices the group that’s gathered around his cousin, and his eyes widening at their leader in particular. “Jeonghan hyung, hello.” He greets formally, bow deep. Seungcheol watches on as same old Hansol still scuttles in the presence of people with power, intimidated.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Wait.

This. This is different.

Seungcheol can’t help but face Hansol with that widened eye shock. Jeonghan was calling _his_ baby cousin ‘kiddo’? Maybe he has been away for far too long.

Seungkwan clears his throat, one leg extended, hip popped out, and glaring at the boy.

“Oh. Hi, Boo,” Hansol waves, pretty pathetically Seungcheol notes.

“ _Hi, Boo?_ That's all you have to say Hansol Vernon Chwe?” Seungkwan’s lips are jutted out, a face full of pout while he erupts. “You haven't answered my messages in two hours!”

Seungcheol almost took a step back, since Seungkwan’s voice was louder than Jeonghan’s, and Jeonghan’s presence usually takes the forefront. Not many people can upstage Jeonghan’s aura while he is still in the room. In his memories, the cherub-faced boy was always loud and boisterous in their schooldays.

“Sorry, was busy. Had to get hyung,” Hansol gestures to Seungcheol, talking about him nonchalantly towards people Seungcheol wasn’t even close with. He notes this with faint amusement. Hansol has become so brazen.

“We'll hang later,” Hansol rushes out, “I’ll text you. Bye!” and his hands are already grabbing Seungcheol with unnecessary force, tugging Seungcheol away without much input, and puts as much distance as he can away from the group as if he had something or maybe _someone_ to avoid.

 

Seungcheol lets his cousin lead him until they’re a whole floor away from them. “Could you care to explain why you’re dragging me away from Yoon and his groupies in _my_ mall.”

“Your dad's mall, hyung. Not yours.”

Hansol repeating Yoon Jeonghan’s words.

“Wow,” Seungcheol stares with his feet dragging.

Somebody might as well tell him that the world has flipped upside down and they’re living in a simulation. He is suddenly curious. It is unlike the Hansol he knew to change routine and he wasn’t keen on hanging out with other influential kids like Jeonghan. He has always hated the place that was Gossip Gangnam. Hansol despised their rule of survival: _people are to be used_ and serious crises — parent divorces, college rejections, affairs, nudes — are gossip solely for entertainment. It’s how you climb up the social ladder, and the higher you go, the more power you gain.

The cousins share the same sentiment.

“You hang out with the roulettes alot?” Seungcheol asks tentatively.

Hansol glances at him testingly. He was probing at his cousin’s reaction, Seungcheol could tell. Then, Hansol shrugs half-heartedly, "a bit.”

Seungcheol bit back his tongue to ask _why at all_. But he trusts Hansol. He knows the things that Hansol does is with its reasons, and given that his cousin has always looked up to him (solely because Seungcheol is older and their family more powerful), Seungcheol couldn’t push him to give him the reason why. He didn’t want to take advantage of Hansol’s weakness like that. But he could prod a little.

“So... how does uncle feel about that?”

Hansol shrugs again.

It wasn’t an answer. This was exactly how he acted when he would hide from his parents during exam results, playing video games and shrugging his shoulders. Hansol is hiding something.

“My parents ..... they’re... not as obsessive as you are about the rivalry,” Hansol says.

“I’m not obsessive,” Seungcheol has to immediately snap back.

“It’s been barely two days since you’ve come back to Korea and you’re already hashing it out with Jeonghan-hyung. You’re obsessive,” Hansol deadpans. “Sometimes I think you take this thing more seriously than even your parents do.” Then Hansol turns away, shrugging Seungcheol’s questions off his shoulders. “Anyways, don’t worry about it too much.”

Seungcheol stares at Hansol’s back with suspicion. Hansol has never been interested in other people’s business, didn’t like it when other people stuck their nose in his either. He didn’t like rivalries or the games Gangnam kids played. To start hanging with Roulettes and admitting it, Seungcheol feels like there’s a big picture he’s missing.

The way Hansol turned away from him, callus and offhand, sticks in his mind.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


seungche..

mingyu(Steaming Bowl)

wonwoo(Video Game Controller)

jihoon(Microphone )

**Seungcheol**

— one of you has some serious explaining to do

**Seungcheol**

— why is hansol hanging out with jeonghan and his groupies?

**Mingyu**

— welcome back hyung (Hugging Face )

**Seungcheol**

— i want answers.

**Wonwoo**

— well if you paid attention to gangnam girl, you would've known hansol has been hanging out with them for a while now

**Seungcheol**

— you know i don’t read gangnam girl. why should i? it can’t affect me.

**Seungcheol**

— also why do you read that trash acc anyway?

**Wonwoo**

— well maybe i'm the son of a small news corporation and i dont have the luxury of being untouchable like some multinational conglomerate heir

— also trash news is still news

**Jihoon**

— "small news corporation"

**Jihoon**

— wow you'd think wonwoo didn't just rent out a whole arcade yesterday

**Mingyu**

— basically, wonwoo likes gossip

**Seungcheol**

— just tell me why is my baby cousin hanging out with trash Please

**Wonwoo**

**Wonwoo**

— your “baby” cousin is in a relationship with boo seungkwan

**Seungcheol**

— what the fuck??? since when?

**Mingyu**

— at one of wen junhui's parties

**Mingyu**

— that's where it always goes down

**Wonwoo**

— now they're all in love it's disgusting

**Jihoon**

— they were sucking faces at lunch yesterday

**Jihoon**

— even junhui was grossed out

**Seungcheol**

— you're on first name basis with wen junhui?

**Seungcheol**

— and wtf you ate lunch with them?

**Mingyu**

— we all did....

**Wonwoo**

— you really haven't been keeping up with gangnam girl

**Seungcheol**

— creepy ass stalker gossip acc aside

**Seungcheol**

— you could've TOLD me about this by text or facetime

**Wonwoo**

— maybe you should be asking your cousin why he didn't tell you instead of making a separate group chat

— oh wait! maybe it's because he knows you have an obnoxious rivalry with yoon jeonghan and would get mad at him perhaps?

**Mingyu**

— wonwoo hyung...

**Jihoon**

— you've just missed alot these past few years, cheol

**Jihoon**

— we assumed you wouldn't be back for another four

**Mingyu**

—  and you haven't contacted us in a while either..

**Seungcheol**

— i know.. i'm sorry guys

**Seungcheol**

— i had a lot of things on my plate i didn't expect i'm really sorry

**Seungcheol**

— can you at least tell me how the deputy prime minister's son is with yoon

**Wonwoo**

— his father was appointed recently and jeonghan got his hands on him real early. i think he's trying to turn him into his protege or something

**Wonwoo**

— there's some serious indoctrination

**Seungcheol**

— gangnam is a real dumpster now with yoon jeonghan ruling it

**Jihoon**

— nah, it has always been a dumpster

**Wonwoo**

— and jeonghan has always ruled it, it's just that the gangnam kids made up drama about you guys

**Wonwoo**

— until you went away and the prince became a king

**Seungcheol**

— good thing i’m back

**Mingyu**

— welcome back hyung!! (Party Popper)

**Jihoon**

— let us take a moment of silence for gangnam

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for questions or suggestions, contact me here:  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/214YOONS) / [twt](https://twitter.com/214YOONS) @ 214YOONS ♡
> 
> the coding was unnecessarily difficult and made me want to jump out a window thanks !
> 
> for jeongcheol smut ............ subscribe  
> comment what you think about our gangnam kids ! also would you guys mind if i use idol names for gangnam gossip rts or use fictional users?  
> 


	2. DEVIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **devil.** _noun._ \ ˈde-vᵊl \  
>  1 an extremely wicked person  
> 2 a person of notable energy, recklessness, and dashing spirit  
>  _synonyms:_ fiend, mischievous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the one and only wen junhui, everyone !

When Minghao joined Roulette, Jeonghan had almost mistaken him for someone already well established. The boy dressed as if he was ready for Seoul fashion week every day, but he stumbled over his words occasionally so Jeonghan mistook Minghao for some rich exchange student. His guess wasn’t too far from it. Minghao was new money. His mother married to a hugely successful hedge-fund owner. _Notice: not born into wealth._ And the lions of Gangnam loved picking on prey like Minghao.

Jeonghan reaches to stub out his cigarette, before pouring Minghao another drink and putting it in his hand. Minghao complies in another row of drinks and downs it with difficulty. Junhui, sitting on the rug beside him, only deepens his smirk. He takes his turn to pour Minghao a drink now. Minghao’s eyes are uneasy.

“Hyung,” he slurs with his accent much more pronounced.

Junhui presses the cup against Minghao’s fingers, dangerously close to sloshing the liquid onto his own 300k rug. “Come on, Xiao Hao,” Junhui coaxes, “you speak so cutely when you’re drunk.”

But Minghao isn’t drunk. Not yet anyway, not by a long shot.

Minghao’s lower lip juts out, mouth slumping. He grimaces but downs the drink anyway.

Jeonghan can’t help but think of Minghao like a lamb. He followed them soft and sweet, no matter what they asked of him.

Everyone thought that Jeonghan was the one who had to call the _green light_ to welcome newcomers into the Roulette. But not necessarily. It was Junhui who greeted them one day, one hand on the little lamb’s shoulder and said, “This is Xu Minghao. He’s new money,” with that mischievous glint in his eyes. The same glint that Junhui always has when he comes up with a “good” idea or when he’s maxing out a credit card. Jeonghan knows Junhui will always do what he wants, and although Jeonghan rules Gangnam, Junhui is a king in his own mind. So Minghao stayed.

“Jun~ it's your turn,” Soonyoung says from across the coffee table, anticipating.

 **Kwon Soonyoung**. Son of CEO of Zoom Electronics. Soonyoung’s father and Jeonghan’s uncle have been getting rich off each other by their medical innovations.

Dokyeom, next to Soonyoung, claps encouragingly for Junhui to go.

 **Lee Seokmin**. Otherwise known as **Dokyeom**. Son to the chief of Shin Broadcasting, a subsidy of YMH.

The two were more Seungkwan’s friends than his. But since their families are important figures to his family’s company, Jeonghan hasn’t minded when they stick around. They’ve proved more sincere than previous people, who came and took what they needed. Perhaps because Seungkwan is, in the first place, a harmless boy at heart, but he loves seeing drama firsthand too much. Plus, the booseoksoon trio brings a genuine energy to the old same act of family business strains and downing it with parties and alcohol. And no one is better to corrupt than the young and untainted.

They follow Jeonghan well. Even though Junhui was crazy from the things he started himself alone, the kids in Roulette think of Jeonghan as the king. Gangnam said he was, and so he became. That’s how Jeonghan has more influence than Junhui.

Jeonghan dips down from the chair he was sitting in, “Truth or dare, Junnie?”

“You shouldn’t even need to ask, Hyung.” Junhui returns Jeonghan’s smile in equal snide.

The thing about Junhui is that he’s just as bad as Jeonghan. Besides being Gangnam’s number two gossip and party central, it’s one of the reasons Jeonghan keeps him around.

“Then I dare you to give Minghao, here, a welcoming present. Make it a _real nice_.” Jeonghan curls his tongue around the words.

Their friends around on the rug make a chorus of _oo_ ’s and _ah_ ’s.

“That’s easy,” Junhui says with a grin full of teeth. His eyes twinkle with chance and opportunity.

Jeonghan’s aware of the way Junhui’s been eyeing Minghao ever since they were introduced. Minghao is a shy little thing, but the way he dresses screamed confidence. Jeonghan believes there’s more than meets the eye. And Junhui is just the right alcohol to light this fire.

Jeonghan points to the bar in the far right of the room. “Behind that counter,” he says.

And the room becomes more hushed but Jeonghan doesn’t need to look up to know his friends are giddy — Joshua scandalized as ever. It becomes apparent to them that Jeonghan doesn’t mean just a simple kiss or exchanging saliva.

It wasn’t the first time Jeonghan dared people to have sex behind the counter. Many people in this room, who don’t have the status to come into the room anymore, had been dared to go behind the counter. It wasn’t enough for Jeonghan to just _dare_ them, no, it wouldn’t be good enough at all. Jeonghan needs to know that it happened; he relishes in other people’s embarrassment.

“I’m starting to believe you have a voyeurism kink,” Junhui teases but he never refuses. Junhui never refuses a dare. Jeonghan knows that. Minghao’s eyebrows are scrunched, confused and eyes darting around to his friends surrounding them. Junhui clears it all up for him when he almost all but dives down towards Minghao, his whispers caressing Minghao’s ear.

Minghao’s confused expression transforms. He sputters, “But Gē—”

Jeonghan almost takes pity for the poor kid who has a fist in Junhui’s sweater, looking flustered and inexperienced. Junhui places a warm hand on his thigh, silencing him with sweet words in their native language. He kisses up Minghao’s face, then lands a hard kiss onto his mouth. Something about the way he does it says that it’s not the first time they’ve kissed. When Junhui separates, the look he gives Minghao is terribly soft, giving a small nip to Minghao’s bottom lip.

Junhui pulls Minghao up by the elbow, whispering, “Hyung will make it good, Xiao Hao.”

Minghao’s face, as he scrambles up, is brightly lit like he actually got drunk. He says a few words of protest when he gets behind the counter, but it all ends with a whine. Junhui spins him around so that his back is facing the group and his face hidden from view.

Jeonghan can only faintly make out their soft whispering.

“You don’t have to worry,” Junhui says, “No one else will see it but the people in this room. Promise.” If Jeonghan hadn’t known Junhui for six years, he’d think Junhui almost sounded sweet.

But it was true anyways. There is an unspoken rule that this room could only to be used by the Roulettes during parties, a _VIP room_ so to speak. No one dared to come into any room if they told them to empty it. What happens at in this room, will stay in this room — unless Jeonghan says otherwise. Or if you wanted to be promptly kicked out and humiliated back two-fold, you could risk the tell-all.

But this is also a common practice of Seungcheol’s group (whom Gangnam Girl nicknamed _the King’s Court_ quite obnoxiously after they formulated in high school) that empties out whole floors at Junhui’s penthouse parties. An act that Jeonghan despises for the hypocrisy. Seungcheol’s group has always been more reserved and secretive than their group. Yet, they are the bad ones.

The smoke from their cigarettes billow in the room, and the alcohol has the world under Jeonghan’s vision blurring. Junhui’s penthouse is as soundproof as it can be, but not enough. The muffled music and booming bass from beyond the door don’t help Jeonghan get a hold of his senses.

But he can see Junhui’s expression frighteningly clear. The dim lighting casts a shadow on the side of his face. Junhui’s gaze is dark, his mouth slanted in a smirk; it’s arrogant and dangerous.

He hears the clicking of Minghao’s buckle and his stuffed moan. Junhui kneels down and disappears behind the counter. Minghao brings an arm up, his moans become muffled but still audible. Jeonghan laughs freely in the background.

Minghao is so eager and Jeonghan doesn’t feel sorry for him anymore.

He turns back to the alcohol on the table. Joshua, seated next to him, watches as he takes a whole bottle by the neck and raises it up. Joshua’s eyes bore into him.

“Cheers,” Jeonghan says joyfully, not a care in the world, and gulps the alcohol down by the mouthful.

He hears Dokyeom from across from them snicker, as Jeonghan spares them a glance, and sees Chan, a small thing across from him on the rug, averting his eyes from the bar and darts them across random spots in the room. “The young one is going to get traumatized,” Dokyeom says, almost giddy.

Jeonghan just rolls his head off the side of the armchair. “You can go if you’re uncomfortable, Chan,” he lulls as he watches Chan’s fingers fiddle with his one beer. The only one Jeonghan put in his hand.

He’s hit with a sudden doubt, his mind wandering into the thought of whether it was the right choice to bring Chan, with a good background, baby cheeks, and a height barely reaching Seungkwan’s, into their group. Jeonghan didn’t interact with him for this reason.

Before Jeonghan can think too much into it though, “No. I’m having fun, Hyung,” Chan says while mustering a smile.

But like his mother said, he’s always been a bad influence.

Jeonghan takes another swig of vodka.

Seungkwan, somewhere in front of him, sighs forlornly. “I miss Hansol now. I want someone to kiss too.”

The idea almost makes him want to throw up. Jeonghan snorts, mouthing against the rim of the bottle. “I’m sure our dear Junhui wouldn't mind giving you a turn.”

Seungkwan whips towards him, disgust poorly concealed. “Hyung, I’m in a serious relationship.”

Jeonghan neatly smiles down at him as if he were a child, “And I’m sure handsome little Chwe thinks the same.”

Seungkwan shrinks inward, hands clasping together on his lap. The insecurity and unease ooze from him in a form of abnormal quietness. He doesn’t say anything back, only tugs on the jeans hugging his thighs. Jeonghan lets those thoughts simmer.

When Minghao and Junhui return, Junhui’s hair is a mess. He makes no effort to slick it back but instead, wears it proudly. Minghao’s blush reaches his neck and his shirt is rumpled. He flops into his previous seat on the rug.

Junhui has one arm hanging over the edge of the armchair and behind Minghao as he turns to speak to Jeonghan. He licks his lips, “Hope you enjoyed the show.”

But Jeonghan’s mouth was so busy with alcohol, he hadn't even been listening or looking. Jeonghan couldn’t have cared less for the show actually — it was never about that. His eyes dart down to Minghao whose head is tilted down. Minghao couldn't meet his eyes, or in fact, make eye contact with anyone.

Jeonghan giggles, “Very.”

But he supposes he’s had too much fun when Joshua brings up that he was next in line in the game. “It’s your turn now, Jeonghan,” Joshua speaks to him in the same tone as Jeonghan did to Junhui.

Jeonghan’s features tense, chest heavy when he faces his childhood friend. Joshua’s looking at him with stern eyes and a disapproving expression. Jeonghan tightens his lips, despite wanting to yell at Joshua. If he wanted to leave, he could. He could just walk right out that door. But Jeonghan doesn’t. He doesn’t frown or yell, only beams greasily at his childhood friend.

“The dare as usual. Do your worst.”

And Jeonghan genuinely means it. He wishes Joshua would be cruel to him, to see that Joshua was capable of being mean and wrong like him. But Joshua can never be corrupted, always nice and sticking by Jeonghan no matter what bad things he did to people. Something Jeonghan detests.

Junhui finishes whispering conspiringly into Minghao’s ear.

The lamb looks like the gears are turning in his head. The way he looks, sitting in Junhui’s shadow, pricks at Jeonghan’s skin. Minghao turns his head towards Jeonghan, slowly, like unfurling a cork and _pop_ , “I dare you to skinny dip,” Minghao challenges and Junhui holds up his phone, “on the thirteenth floor.”

They are eerily in sync.

  


wonwoo

**Junhui**

— you owe me

**Wonwoo**

— with the money im earning tonight def

**Wonwoo**

— seungcheol thinks he's good

— but i'm better

  


 _Shit._ His stomach sinks.

They all scramble over to see what’s on Junhui’s screen, erupting into cackles the minute they catch onto Jeonghan’s dare. Only Junhui could have this much guts to dare Jeonghan to do something like this.

Minghao has a shit-eating grin on.

_Well Jeonghan, you reap what you sow. Two-fold._

 

When the elevator strikes lucky number thirteen, Jeonghan holds back a groan. They get off, and Jeonghan reluctantly peels off his shoes and socks, toes wiggling on the cold tiles.

It’s not like he was nervous about taking off his clothes and being a bare as the day he was born. Jeonghan is incredibly confident of his body after years of modeling. Just not in front of a certain person.

The thirteenth floor holds an indoor pool, where Minghao dared him to skinny dip, and coincidentally has an upstairs where billiards and bowling are available with a viewing room over the pool. One of the rooms that Seungcheol’s group favors staying during Junhui’s parties. Everybody knows this.

Jeonghan’s friends giggle behind him as he listens to their feet squish and slide across the wet floor as some of them step up the stairs to the viewing balcony and others cackle on the side of the pool. He hears Soonyoung’s voice beckon Seungcheol’s crew over to watch _something good happening_. Jeonghan tries to avoid looking up as he unzips his pants, dropping them in a puddle by his shoes and socks.

“Is that Jeonghan?” and “What’s he doing?” reverbs in different voices in the background of the makeshift auditorium. But the voice he’s listening for doesn’t appear.

Jeonghan refuses to lift his head even though it feels like gravity is pulling it up. He curls his fingers around the hem of his shirt. Curiosity takes the better of him.

When Jeonghan looks up, next to his squawking friends is Seungcheol, standing with one hand placed leisurely on the railing. Jeonghan’s heart almost explodes, of excitement or of fright, it’s hard to know which.

It’s awfully dim down at the pool where no one has turned the lights on, but the in-ground pool lights reflect off of the walls, illuminating enough to see his figure, unlike the viewing balcony where Seungcheol stands is full of bright light. Seungcheol’s broad figure is in a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, and although he’s far away, he looks leaner and taller than Jeonghan remembers. _He’s terribly handsome_ and it hurts Jeonghan to think it.

In high school, he wouldn’t have batted an eye and would have just stripped. But a lot can change in four years. Things happen. People happen. Jeonghan’s body also changed in ways it wasn’t back then, he thinks as his thumb unconsciously rests over his hips. Jeonghan is just thankful that it’s dark enough down here to miss the small details.

Seungcheol’s eyes are beating down on him, and Jeonghan can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or Seungcheol’s gaze but when he takes off his shirt, the goosebumps rise all over his body, never once breaking their stare.

Those eyes haunt him, almost every night since he came back.

Jeonghan’s reminded of the feeling from when he was under Seungcheol. His broad chest moving heavily as his hands assisted Jeonghan in raising his shirt over his head. Jeonghan knew when he blushed, it was like a doll with deep rose spotting against his cheeks as the heat filled his face. Seungcheol’s eyes were wide and wondrous, seeming to reach so deep, it could see through every pore and blemish on Jeonghan’s skin.

Jeonghan wonders if that night replays in Seungcheol’s mind like it does for him.

The stoic stance that the broad man takes gives nothing away as he simply watches.

He really wants Seungcheol to be as affected as he is, Jeonghan wishes as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and smirked.

“Welcome back!” he says into the open air and slips the fabric off. If Jeonghan had squinted, he might have seen Seungcheol’s jaw clench, his grip tightening against the railing.

But Jeonghan had already pulled his eyes away and dived into the water with his friends’ loud hooting bouncing off the walls.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


yoon

**Seungcheol**

— you're a fucking tease, yoon

**Jeonghan**

— miss me much?

**Seungcheol**

— couldn't forget that ass after senior year

**Jeonghan**

—  (Kiss Mark )

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as we get more into our au, you'll see what kind of person jeonghan is
> 
> hope you guys don't mind the junhao since their dynamic is fun to write in this au too ,,
> 
> subscribe / kudo / comment if you wanna yell at me about jeonghan being a flirt  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/214YOONS) / [twt](https://twitter.com/214YOONS) @ 214YOONS


	3. SHALLOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **shallow.** _adjective._ \ ˈsha-(ˌ)lō \  
>  1 having little depth  
> 2 not exhibiting, requiring, or capable of serious thought  
>  _synonyms:_ superficial

gyu(Paw Prints )

**Mingyu**

— maybe you should ask hansol about it

**Wonwoo**

— to do what?

**Mingyu**

— to ask seungkwan for the favor

**Wonwoo**

— that's a little awkward between us

— seungcheol hyung wouldn't like it

**Mingyu**

— you're jeon wonwoo!! when have you cared about what hyung thinks

— this is your family we're talking about

— hansol would want to help

**Wonwoo**

— mm... i'll think about it

— thanks mingyu

— you always take care of me

**Mingyu**

—  (Sparkling Heart ) (Yellow Heart ) (Sunflower ) (Growing Heart ) (Daisy ) (Orange Heart ) (Sparkling Heart ) (Daisy ) (Orange Heart ) (Sunflower ) (Sparkling Heart ) (Sunflower ) (Growing Heart ) (Orange Heart ) (Sparkling Heart ) (Sunflower ) (Growing Heart ) (Daisy ) (Yellow Heart ) (Daisy ) (Growing Heart ) (Yellow Heart ) (Daisy ) (Sparkling Heart ) (Sunflower ) (Orange Heart ) (Growing Heart ) (Sparkling Heart ) (Sunflower ) (Growing Heart ) (Orange Heart ) (Yellow Heart ) (Daisy ) (Yellow Heart ) (Orange Heart )

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


The engine rumbles down as Jeonghan comes to a stop and parks. The building before them is a full-fledged house, one that looks like it has several bedrooms and a backyard to boot.

“Well, it’s not a penthouse for a change.”

Seungkwan agrees, “Yeah, Hansol’s mom wanted the family to live in a big house instead of a penthouse. She has a garden and everything.”

Jeonghan hums, not really interested. Family is not a talking point he likes to venture into and didn’t encourage Seungkwan to continue.

They sit there for a moment, Jeonghan staring up at the details of the house, waiting for Seungkwan to spit out whatever he wanted to say. Jeonghan could feel the younger’s unspoken questions screaming at him even though he hasn’t moved yet. Seungkwan is too easy to read.

Seungkwan takes the cue to unbuckle his seatbelt and open the passenger door. As he climbs out, each limb moving slowly and hesitantly, he stares at Jeonghan without a drop of subtlety when he’s out of the car and hangs onto the door.

“Do you want to come in?”

Is this what Seungkwan wanted to ask him? Seungkwan had been wiggling in the seat, keeping quiet then bursting out in conversation at random intervals the whole ride over. He couldn’t have been that nervous.

“Isn’t it enough that I drove you here?” Jeonghan inclines his body onto the wheel. He only drove Seungkwan here to shut him up from blowing up all their phones. Seungkwan’s lips start pulling down and Jeonghan knows that in a few seconds, he’s going to start pouting and whining. “It’s not exactly your house to be inviting me in, Seungkwan-ah,” he says pointedly.

Seungkwan’s face is contorted, one foot wanting to escape and the other pointed towards Jeonghan to stay. “Just come in. Get some water. Or soda. It’s hot.”

Jeonghan doesn’t really plan on staying at Seungkwan’s boyfriend’s house much longer. The home is a happy white and blue, and there are colorful flowers neatly arranged in the yard. _Made with love_ , the house screams, and Jeonghan feels offended.

“Hansol really doesn’t mind,” Seungkwan interrupts before he can protest again. “He likes you, hyung.”

Jeonghan huffs and lets his head hit the headrest. He doesn’t mention how his car has air condition and if Seungkwan hadn’t been keeping the door open, Jeonghan wouldn’t even be feeling the bottom of his thighs starting to sweat. A part of him does want to go in, only partly, because Seungkwan has been so taken by a person he barely knows.

And he can admit the little Chwe is nice. A pacifist and agreeable unlike his cousin. (But that emphasized the fact that Hansol is a fool.)

“Fine,” Jeonghan relents and gets out of his car, slamming the door with strong reluctance.

Seungkwan is quick to lead Jeonghan down a paved road towards the back of the house. He practically bounces with every step, all his stress relieved after Jeonghan accepted his request.

Seungkwan pushes the fence and enters through the back. Shrubbery and flowers fill the yard, surrounding the pool and patio. He must have been too deep in his thoughts that Jeonghan didn’t even register the laughter and chat in the backyard before they reached it. There, Hansol lies on a rocket shaped float while he makes large gestures, on the verge of tipping over into the pool, towards Jihoon who’s fiddling with his phone and the stereo, both quibbling about which songs to choose for the playlist. Meanwhile, Wonwoo sits under the patio umbrella, legs stretched out, reading a book.

Seungkwan announces their arrival with a loud, “babe!” in Hansol’s direction.

Jeonghan feels the need to take three steps away from him. He’s very out of his element right now, stepping into enemy grounds, and there were no plans of strategy at all. This is the first time he’s been at a Choi house.

Hansol immediately starts paddling his way towards his boyfriend, faithfully like a dog, but never once thinks to get off of the float. Jeonghan would be amused if he wasn’t so put off by the smitten reaction. Seungkwan simply hugs him and luckily, Jeonghan is spared from seeing them kiss. Jeonghan wants to shrivel up right now.

He notices that Wonwoo now has his head up in their direction, eyes wide and alarmed, attention called away from his book part-way closed, casted on its side in a worn manner. When he spots Jeonghan looking his way, he scrambles to pick up his book again, feigning a distraction.

Strange.

 **Jeon Wonwoo.** Parents were strong activists for unveiling corruption and progressive journalism during their youth. Now, they own JBS, a neutral and unyielding news corporation, white with purity. Not one raised to be intimidated by Jeonghan’s status.

So why did he react like that?

“Hyung, you can take a dip in the pool with me,” Seungkwan practically sings. “I’ll go see if Hansol has something in your size.”

Jeonghan’s head follows Seungkwan’s skipping form to the house. Before he could tell Seungkwan that Hansol could go look for it instead, so that Jeonghan wouldn’t need to be in the yard with people he spent the past seven years not associating with — but Hansol wouldn’t know his size, and Seungkwan had already opened the screen door to go into the house.

“Hyung, have some sweet tea.” Hansol comes next to him, holding out a cup with ice swirling around the straw. Suddenly, the sweat sticking his t-shirt onto his back becomes hard to ignore.

When Seungkwan gets him in one of Hansol’s swimming shorts, he submerges his body in the pool without much resistance. Seungkwan engages in a play fight with Hansol, trying to tip him over in the float while Jeonghan lounges and sips on his tea by the edge.

“Shrimp cakes are done!” comes a shout following the sound of the screen door sliding open. Kim Mingyu comes out with a platter of food with Seungcheol trailing behind him, arms full of ice buckets.

He doesn’t notice Jeonghan drifting in the pool with half his face submerged while they set the food next to Wonwoo on the table. The rest of them start circling around the food while Jeonghan eyes Seungcheol like a predator does it’s prey.

Jeonghan plants an arm out on the edge, leisurely relaxing his head in his palm. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

It’s funny to see Seungcheol snap to attention, caught unaware and surprised when he spots Jeonghan lounging in his cousin’s pool. Seungcheol’s eyes trace down his visible upper half, and Jeonghan knows how he looks with his long wet hair slicked back, droplets falling down his shoulders and chest, a pool on his collarbone.

Seungcheol has a hard time resisting him.

He seems to catch onto the expression he was making and Seungcheol reels himself in control again, standing with his 178cm in height over Jeonghan’s wading body in the water. “Shouldn’t that be my line, Yoon?”

Jeonghan beams for the appearance of friendliness, but they both know better. He did want to leave a second ago, but now that Seungcheol is here, the afternoon just got more interesting.

He lifts his body up and makes sure that Seungcheol watches as his naked torso becomes visible with dripping water down the lines of his lean abs. Of course, they were just lean muscle than actual abs that girls liked to ogle at, not ones like Seungcheol’s that had to be trained hard at the gym to get. He thinks the contrast must be a quite a sight, as Jeonghan stands at the same height as him, chest-size modest versus Seungcheol’s pectorals stretching his t-shirt, thighs thicker than Jeonghan’s model legs.

He watches Seungcheol huff a bit, once again with his eyes tracing his figure. Jeonghan shivers a bit but he’s sure it’s not from the temperature contrast. _Those damn eyes._ Though they stood a few feet away, Seungcheol’s stare makes it feel like they were closer.

Seungcheol lifts his arm up and Jeonghan is so focused on their staring contest that it takes a moment to realize that Seungcheol was holding out a towel for him.

“Wow, suddenly become a gentleman?”

“Always was, Yoon. Maybe you’d realize it if you came out of your circle a little bit more.”

Jeonghan takes the towel and instead of using it for its intended purpose to wipe his body off, he proceeds to wrap his hair in it, not minding one bit of the water on his chest. Seungcheol’s expression is comedic enough to make Jeonghan laugh, but Jeonghan has to maintain an air of indifference so only his shoulders shake when he withholds it. Seungcheol is biting down on his bottom lip, eyes sparking ticklings up his arms as he glares at him. It's fun to frustrate Seungcheol.

Jeonghan struts by him, whispering on the way, “Don’t be a hypocrite, your majesty,” when he passes — the reference to Seungcheol’s title as King of Gangnam and his group’s own exclusivity.

Sure, Seungcheol was the kinder one but when it came down to it, the Gangnam kids revered and feared Seungcheol for his status, his wealth, his power, and they ran their groups the same way. The Gangnam kids could categorize them as the good and the bad however much they want. Pit them against each other because in their minds, Seungcheol and his friends were a different sort from Jeonghan and his friends. But in the end, Seungcheol was born the same golden spoon that Jeonghan was.

When Jeonghan comes around, Mingyu is crouched, squishing Wonwoo in the lounge chair, whispering with the older male with a serious face. He settles in the seat across from Wonwoo, Mingyu sparing him a glance and pulls away from Wonwoo, patting the boy on the knee somewhat encouragingly. He flashes a smile at Jeonghan, pushing a plate of shrimp cakes towards him. “Care for some shrimp cakes, hyung?”

Jeonghan can feel his stomach constrict but doesn’t let his eyes wander down at them, mustering up a shake of the head. “It’s alright. I’m on a diet.”

Seungkwan marches past them with a plate and mouth full of food. “ _Always_ on a diet,” he corrects on the way.

Jeonghan fights to not shrivel into his seat. Yoon Jeonghan doesn't fall from a single snub. So with a simmering anger and clenched fists, he calls out, “Not everyone can be as _round and cute_ as you, Seungkwannie.” And correct on his prediction, Seungkwan is riled by the comment easily, turns a quick flush of embarrassed, and violently splashes water at the tips of his feet in retaliation.

The telltale sign of prickling appears and Jeonghan knows someone must be judging him for his distasteful words. They were ugly words, banter, but Jeonghan doesn't see why his comment is an insult and Seungkwan isn't, just because his insecurities are more controlled. But it does only little to ease his aching ego.

Another unknown person appears that afternoon. “Mingyu oppa’s here?” A teenage girl Jeonghan doesn’t recognize peeks her head in from the screen door. Jeonghan muses about how this house is the apparent hang-out central.

“Hey, Hangyeol.” Mingyu catches her attention and leans out of the shade of the patio umbrella so he could spot her.

“Where’s my milkshake?” The teenager’s whole body sags with her pout.

Mingyu ends up rolling his eyes, “Your favorite berry milkshake is in the fridge. I make it every time I'm over.”

She celebrates with a quick _yay_ and has one foot ready to swivel back when Jihoon crouching by the stereo, splashing his legs in the water complains, “You’re not even gonna greet your other oppas?”

Wonwoo chuckles, “She’s been seduced by Mingyu’s cooking.” Then he yells, “Oppas will get jealous if you only pay attention to Mingyu, Hangyeol-ah!” He feigns a pout towards the girl.

Same old Mingyu, never changed since high school.

 **Kim Mingyu**. Both parents are michelin star decorated chefs. They have a chain of restaurants globally, not to mention frequently guesting on television.

In high school, Mingyu once took home-economics, not that he needed it, and the counselors practically went insane with all the girls who wanted to change their schedules to get into home-ec. Mingyu was accosted everytime he left that class that he had to exchange home-ec for something else three weeks in. All because teenage girls like Hangyeol are especially prone to falling in love with a man who can cook as well as Mingyu.

Jeonghan sits up from his seat. “I can’t believe I haven’t met the cutest Chwe yet. Hello, there,” he waves leisurely.

The teenager takes one look at him and her spoiled puppy eyes disintegrate into a shy little thing, a rosy color decorating her face. It’s absolutely adorable. It’s not like his ego inflates from making little girls flustered from one peek, but he does appreciate her cute reaction. He likes being acknowledged.

The teenager squeaks out a hello, bowing and hiding her face simultaneously while she darts back into the kitchen. For the first time this afternoon, it's the only thing that he genuinely smiles at. Hangyeol takes quick glances at him out of the corner of her eye once in a while, and Jeonghan can tell by the way she giggles into her hair and shuffles in an act of busy in the kitchen, is so she can watch them.

Jeonghan lays his legs out, twisting his body in a feign to stretch, and the teenager’s eyes focus on him, his chest rippling with lean muscles to show. She fully plants herself on the island counter to watch her brother’s friends in a better seating. It makes Jeonghan’s lips curl cheesily as he huddles his face down beyond her sight. She’s a cute little thing that reminds Jeonghan of his little sister, Aejeong, who falls in and out love so easily like all girls do at their age. Can’t blame him for wanting to tease her like tugging on her pigtails and tease her about liking big boys too early, all things he used to do to his sister.

Jeonghan wiggles his fingers at her playfully and the teenage girl, to his delight, widens her eyes and flushes, sputtering around her straw, milkshake decorating the counter. Laughter spills out of Jeonghan easily—that is until he’s suffocated by a large piece of fabric flung into his face, nearly knocking him out of his seat.

He rips the clothing off of him, the thin hoodie that Seungcheol was wearing earlier in his hands. “What the fuck, Choi?” He spits, glaring at the perpetrator who ruined his fun.

Seungcheol looks unamused by his antics. “You’re shivering,” he says darkly, pointing to Jeonghan’s arms.

Jeonghan himself didn’t even realize the goosebumps raised and how the tips of his fingers and shoulders felt cold to the touch. Under the shade, the heat had disappeared.

Seungcheol takes a few steps towards him, but it all seemed so quick and fast like Seungcheol is going to pounce on him. It takes a lot for Jeonghan not to flinch since this is the first time in four years Seungcheol's been gone that he has approached him — come this close to him, as he huddles next to Jeonghan’s chair.

Jeonghan stops breathing. He can’t help how his body wants to stop functioning when Seungcheol is so close, he can see how Seungcheol’s eyelashes fan out and get thicker near the ends. His dimples are nonexistent. Seungcheol is not smiling nor frowning, and it frustrates him. Jeonghan can’t read his expression at all. And the thing is, Jeonghan wants to. All he wants to do is desperately know what’s on Seungcheol’s mind right now, as the man picks up the fallen hoodie and brings it into Jeonghan’s hands. There’s a shadow over his eyes, and its intensity fuels the confusion and desire stirring at the bottom of his stomach.

He lines his lips next to Jeonghan’s ear. “You really shouldn’t mess with little girls. Play with someone your own age instead, Jeonghan.” His breath blows out onto his skin, and it should be endearing that Seungcheol is getting jealous over some teenage girl, but it has the opposite effect. It pulls and pulls and _pulls_ Jeonghan in, makes Jeonghan release his breath slowly without trying to stutter to maintain his expression in front of their audience.

Jeonghan has Seungcheol’s hoodie in a death clutch.

He can faintly feel Seungcheol’s thumb rubbing against his knuckle. _How long has he been doing that,_ Jeonghan’s mind swirls cloudy with the numb thought. Seungcheol’s hands pull away and leave a trail down Jeonghan’s knee, calf, and then ankle. The tips of Seungcheol’s fingers are cool to the touch and instead of the usual burning, Jeonghan’s skin tingles. It all happens so fast, yet slowly.

Seungcheol can be so cruel.

“You’ll catch a cold. Dry your hair,” he advises, while eyeing Jeonghan’s towel on his head, slowly retreating.

His words are ones you tell someone when you worry for them, and they starkly contrast from his snide tone from earlier, but all Jeonghan can think about is his flat voice and his hushed tone in front of all of his friends. Jeonghan has to carefully look out the corner of his eyes to see the reactions of Seungcheol’s group with a blank face all the while. But they seemed to be bustling over Mingyu’s food, throwing in compliments and suggestions. It’s almost like Seungcheol predicted their behavior and planned accordingly.

 _Sly_ , Jeonghan scowls.

But Jeonghan puts on the hoodie without much fuss. He doesn't want to say anything back to Seungcheol that would potentially give himself up. Jeonghan knows that if he opens his mouth, questions and accusation and _hurt_ would come falling out. Words that Jeonghan can't predict. Words he isn't ready to face.

Hansol places a refilled cup of ice tea in front of him, flashing the best smile he could. Jeonghan thanks him while scanning him down with skepticism. The boy is trying insanely hard to please him, it’s hard not to throw Hansol a bone every once in a while. Even Seungkwan messes around with him, but Hansol always approaches him with apprehension like all the high school kids did when they were terrified of him.

Jeonghan hides his sigh into his straw as he sits back. The Choi cousins sure are giving him a hard time.

“Hansol! Was Mingyu cooking in my kitchen again?” comes a feminine voice from inside the house.

All heads turn to the house when Hansol shouts, “Yeah, mom!”

Two women, fairly middle-aged appear from the stairs and at the sight, Hansol and Seungcheol begin to walk towards the screen door.

When they come out into the patio, Jeonghan notices the one approaching them is a foreign-faced woman, done up with light make-up and a white flowing sundress, from Louis Vuitton. She must be the mistress of the house then—Hansol’s mother. The other woman accompanying her wears something pink, a pleated midi dress from the Prada line. Jeonghan worked enough shows to know he has to stay up to date in brands. In the sun, the two ladies look radiant and warm. Their motherly smiles adorn their faces as they glide their way towards them in their flowing dresses.

So similar, yet so different to what Jeonghan's used to. The envy bubbles inside him.

Jeonghan can imagine a lifetime in Hansol’s place, being doted and coddled with that gentle smile, only sunshine and warmth when his mother faced him. But even in his imagination, the idea seems too perfect, too sick.

The boys in the yard call out their greetings, sprinkling in some compliments to fluster the older women.

“There’s a lot of food left on the counter, Eomonim,” Mingyu informs them with his puppy smile.

“Oh, you know how I love Mingyu’s cooking. You should’ve told me and your aunt that your friends were over.” Hansol’s mother gives her son a brief hug.

The other woman kisses Seungcheol on the cheek, a move that makes Jeonghan’s eyes suddenly alert and hands tightening around his drink. “Honey, I didn’t know you were here. I could’ve missed you completely.” The way she cups her hand on Seungcheol face, long-eyelashed and round eyed just like his, looking up to her tall son has Jeonghan’s heart tightening painfully.

Her voice is a sweet, floaty high tone. “You should come home more often.”

“Mom,” Seungcheol winces when the word comes out stilted, “not right now.” He looks more apologetic when he finishes his sentence.

Jeonghan can’t take his eyes off the pair. He might have missed the small comments they made to each other, being to entrapped in the perfect picture of a family, but Seungcheol’s big hand cradling his mother’s small one tells him that even little things must be big things to the overbearingly-nice, reserved Seungcheol. His demeanor, his actions have always been different from his and Junhui’s. He even reminds Jeonghan of Joshua a bit.

But he sees Seungcheol’s mom, lines of her mouth pulled down, wrinkles on her forehead deepening, and it’s clear that she’s just a worried mother. She's picture perfect.

Jeonghan is strangely nauseous.

“I think I’ve drunk too much ice tea,” he murmurs, voice floating far away. He has to steady his hand when putting down his glass on the table.

“You’ve had three cups already,” Wonwoo says, voice laced in concern and a bit of amusement.

“You’re gonna get addicted to Mingyu’s recipes too, soon enough,” Seungkwan’s snickers erupt in the background, bringing others to laugh along.

“Why Hansol, you never told me you had such a pretty friend. What’s a beautiful lady like you hanging out with these hooligans?” Hansol’s mother teases.

The comment has Jeonghan sharing a look with Hansol. Jeonghan knows it's his first time seeing Chwe Hansol’s mother in the flesh, but shouldn’t there be some recognition from previous years? He knows his body and style has changed quite a bit since his high school years, but to not even recognize him...

Hansol has to backtrack and immediately correct her, “No mom, that’s Yoon—” but the whole yard erupts with laughter and heckling that drowns out his soft, panicked voice. _Timid little thing_ , Jeonghan pities in the back of his head.

Jeonghan feels the back of his neck grow hot. It’s easy to mistake him for a girl with his hair wrapped in a towel, his torso hidden in a hoodie, and slender legs splayed out on the chair, that his pretty face is the sole identifying attribute. He wishes he could prune under the compliments, because he does like being praised for his beauty, but today, they just carve a hollow hole in him to remind him of what he’s not. He wishes he could peel out of his skin and emerge as one of his mom’s darling girls.

Jeonghan’s fixes a humbled smile on his face, if anything but to convince himself that he shouldn’t lash out in front of adults who have more influence than he might ever have, whether they know that or not.

Seungcheol’s mother peers at him from a few feet away. “Your friend has quite a face. She looks sort of familiar though,” she questions.

“She’s a model, Eomeonim!” Seungkwan chirps from the pool, perching himself right below Jeonghan. Hansol is paddling towards him, using a cutting motion across his neck to try to signal him to stop. The laughter grows to an ear shrieking level. Jeonghan immediately retaliates by kicking his feet at Seungkwan’s arms and pushing him back into the pool.

Jeonghan slides into the chair, becoming quiet when he meets Seungcheol’s mother’s curious stare. _Could it be that she too doesn’t recognize him?_ But she just passes him by like she was surveying him like all of Hansol’s other friends.

The ladies look on fondly at them. “Well, you boys behave _nicely_.”

“Let’s not bother the boys, Miyeon. I’m sure they wouldn’t like two old ladies hanging around them when they have such a nice lady there,” Hansol’s mother jokes and Jeonghan is left to stare at the two flowing dresses, fluid and graceful as the women retreat back into the house.

He hears Seungkwan is snickering, distant and airy, over in the pool. “Oh, he has long hair like a lady but I'm not sure about the nice part,” he teases.

There’s a prickling at his neck, his temple throbs, and on the seam of his lips is an itch to form a sneer. His long hair, which he grew out is almost to the height of his older sister’s when she cut it recently. But he doubts it’ll ever get to the length of his darling little sister’s. No, his mother would probably never let him do that.

Jeonghan leans back calmly and asks with hooded eyes, “Does Hansol’s mother know you two are dating?”

The previous giggling dissolves and becomes icy silence through the yard. Jeonghan could see their grim faces behind his eyelids.

He continues, “I wonder what she would think of it— that he’s not dating a pretty girl like me but _a boy_ like Boo Seungkwan.”

Hansol is helpless on his float, one hand clutching Seungkwan’s in comfort as Seungkwan drifts by the edge of his float, not meeting Jeonghan’s eyes with that joyous eyesmile. Somehow it always comes down to this, huh?

There’s a long stretch in the air. He has had enough of playing around for one day. Daydreams of perfect sunny afternoons by a family pool aren’t meant for people like him. Jeonghan pushes himself up from the armchair and sighs, “I think I've outstayed my welcome.”

There’s a noise of alarm beside him.

Seungcheol wraps his fingers around Jeonghan’s ankle, thick and stout prettily against his skin, stilling him in the spot. “We were just joking around,” he says urgently. His eyes dart to his friends and back on him again. “Stay,” Seungcheol pleads him softer this time, but they have an edge of stiffness to them like trying a word for the first time.

Jeonghan wants to tell Seungcheol that it’s not his position on whether he stays or goes, to hurt, to give the ugly truth, but when he meets eyes with him, wide and electric, gentle and intense at the same time, all he can do is slowly sink back down.

“I was joking too,” comes out without reason. And Jeonghan doesn’t know why he says it, but he likes the comfort it gives him.

Seungcheol looks deep into him, questioning for a long pause, and turns his back to him without calling Jeonghan out on his lie. They both know it is his hobby to say nasty and petty things for fun. Yet, Seungcheol always finds a way to make Jeonghan act unlike himself.

The yard gradually starts back into motion, and they resume their activities with a little more guarded fervor.

Jeonghan’s hands feel restless on his lap, so he reaches for his drink again even though the tea is near the bottom of the cup. While flicking at his straw, he notices that Seungcheol hasn’t moved away, nor released his hold on Jeonghan’s ankle.

“Your mother didn’t recognize me.” He chances a glance at Seungcheol. He’s sitting by the edge of Jeonghan’s lounger, watching Seungkwan swim laps around Hansol while the latter spins on the float, chasing Seungkwan like a dog chases its tail.

How quick the children are to bounce back and become optimistic again.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol replies distantly, “your hair is kind of long and blonde now.” He squeezes at Jeonghan’s ankle as if it’s some kind of sign of how much his body has changed, "and she doesn’t exactly read fashion magazines or go to fashion shows.”

Jeonghan tries not to be hurt. He should expect that people only know him as Jeonghan, the model and not Jeonghan, the face of YMH, or rather Yoon Jeonghan, the son of Yoon Joohyuk and Kim Hyejeong. He knows that when he appears on tv, he’s not the face of the company, his older sister is. Instead, people associate him with some brand or recognize him from which fashion magazine and which billboards they’ve seen.

But not in Gossip Gangnam. Here, Jeonghan is everything. Only in the world he made does Jeonghan exist as the person he wants to appear as.

The conversation falls flat. For the next minute, the only sound comes from Jeonghan stirring his straw and the ice hitting the walls of the glass cup.

Next to him, Wonwoo clears his throat, tentatively asking him, “So how is your internship going, Jeonghan..” then after a quick thought, “hyung.”

“You mean my internship at your parent’s corporation, Wonwoo? It’s going just swell.”

JBS news is a place untouched by C Group or YMH — a blessing and a curse. Wonwoo’s parents keep strictly to their playbook and never gave in to big influencers, the rich, or bribery. Jeonghan kind of envies it, the fact that Seungcheol and Wonwoo can still be friends without the small font in between them, but he doesn't envy it _too_ much. The Jeon family has a list of enemies and allies, but more of the latter. It was exactly why he chose to intern there, free from his family’s clutches for the most part, and a chance to show his family just how capable he is.

“Must be busy these days,” Wonwoo picks at his words carefully and slow, “with a big story coming out and all.”

Wonwoo’s behavior makes Jeonghan suspiciously swivel his head towards him. Jeonghan recognizes the slow pauses between phrases, recognizes this anxious, cautious tone. Countless dinners he’s spent at his sister’s side picking at his food while a business partner warms up his vocals has prepared him enough.

“Do you want something from me?” He asks except it’s not a question at all. Wonwoo’s paled face, sudden apprehension, and nails digging into the table grooves, tells it all.

“Well, you know how my sister is working on a big piece right now..”

“The one about some potential senator being involved in some immoral practices, yes. She has all the staff high strung and on-demand because of it.”

He dawdles on, “The piece is really important to her and you've seen her work right? She's really driven and—”

“Just get to the point, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo picks at a piece of wood chipping off the table. “Well, she can’t broadcast it because that senator’s name is protected.”

The wheels start turning in his head and suddenly, Jeonghan starts to understand. He lets out an empty laugh, “Is this why Seungkwan was so pushy that I drive him here?” After all, Soonyoung and Dokyeom had their own chauffeurs even if Seungkwan didn’t. But no, Seungkwan kept spamming him in the group chat about some nonsense that he was too used to Jeonghan’s car to be driven by strangers.

Wonwoo wiggles in his seat, Mingyu behind him shuffling noisily, and Seungcheol craning his head awkwardly to the side to not meet his gaze. Even Hansol and Seungkwan had stopped fooling around so abruptly that the only sound in the yard was music flowing from Jihoon’s stereo. The nausea comes back at full force, except this time, stronger and it’s rising up his throat that Jeonghan has to bite down on his tongue to suppress it. He can’t even laugh sardonically anymore. So this was the reason Seungcheol was so daring but gentle with him, begging him to stay like he had Jeonghan fooled that he was allowing himself to be nice to him in front of all his friends.

All the pieces had come together. “It’s Senator Ji, isn’t it?”

Wonwoo’s back becomes straight as a board, “Uh, yes.”

Jeonghan nods. “He’s being protected by my dad’s word. My dad is blocking the piece from being pursued.”

He knew that the senator was in league with his dad, and how Jeonghwa complained to him that the senator was being careless with his illicit activities lately. Jeonghwa had her dad’s ear recently since she’s been promoted. He also knows that C Group’s media power isn’t anywhere near YMH’s yet to override influence in Wonwoo’s company. It was the reason C Group had been on their tails in the last decade and why it would be easy to take care of.

“I can do it,” and with these magic words, the yard deflates like a balloon with tension and sighs of relief fill the yard. Then, as if he was considering the thought, Jeonghan tilts his head, “But why should I help you?”

Wonwoo gapes at him, his pupils constrict, fists formed on the table. His mouth is open with stutters falling out and no excuse at all.

Seungcheol’s voice comes out harsh as he looms over him on his feet. “Because there are adults harming children and _getting away with it_. Have a conscience, Jeonghan.”

Have a conscience. But why should he, when Seungcheol has never for him? How he hides this _thing_ they’ve been doing from his friends, yet because they had an agenda to fulfill, only then would Seungcheol hold on his ankle like that in full view of everyone. Jeonghan feels the spite rushing and rising in waves, crashing along the linings of his organs. He wants to _hurt hurt hurt_.

“But you could pick it up, couldn’t you, Seungcheol?” He whips his head towards the male accusing him. “You’re from C Group,” he snarks.

“We can’t buy out the senator’s freedom. It’s your dad who’s protecting him—”

“But you could have one of _your_ media channels broadcast the piece instead. You know about what they’re doing _to the children_ , after all.” Jeonghan rises from his seat to face Seungcheol straight on. “But you won’t,” he wants each word to cut Seungcheol open. “You won’t because what you want from me isn’t to help the children, it’s to clear a way for Wonwoo’s sister to win _Journalist of the Year_. Because this is what it’s _really_ about, isn’t it?”

Shock, shame, and outrage flashes on Seungcheol’s face in mere seconds. It is a familiar expression on a face Jeonghan never wanted it to be. People will ask for Jeonghan's friendship in exchange for favors, and when he makes them face the ugly truth, they ignore it, deny it, make Jeonghan the bad guy.

“If Wonwoo’s sister goes public with this piece, she’ll beat out any journalist in the competition for sure.”

“There are children being abused—” to which Jeonghan lets out a fulfilled laugh.

Seungcheol reels back, appalled, then danger in his eyes. “Jeonghan,” he warns lowly.

Jeonghan would like to think he knows Seungcheol from their years of fighting with each other. But this really takes the cake. It must be so nice to live in Seungcheol's bubble of ignorance. But it is too big a dream to want a sunny day without requests or favors. Jeonghan is only wanted when it's convenient for them.

“Oh, give up the act, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan scowls. “Even you can’t be good all the time. We’re all a bit selfish, right? You’ll only make yourself look foolish.”

For the first time in their seven year rivalry or whatever their relationship had spiraled into, Jeonghan thinks he sees actual hate flash in Seungcheol’s eyes. It affects him more than he can admit. Seungcheol’s face is full of resentment, void of words, and he backs away to hide his revulsion. He can taste the sourness of guilt in his words despite his inflating shoulders.

_It was the truth. It was the truth, and all I did was make them face it._

Jeonghan watches Seungcheol’s back become smaller as he retreats from them, thinks _this is better_ , because it is how it should be. Two of them at opposite sides. Jeonghan likes it better this way. He doesn’t want to know Seungcheol, shouldn’t catch kindness from him.

In Jeonghan’s reality, there is no room for goodwill or love.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


That night, Jeonghan twists up in his blankets. He dreams of being in a room with flashing neons, on again, off again, dancing with each other against a black marble ceiling with miniscule glitters embedded inside. Jeonghan felt so beautiful and warm as he stared up at the glittering ceiling. He was being held and there was a tangy sweetness on his tongue. This warmth turned into cold, and the hands on his body retreated. He was bare and vulnerable as he splayed on the couch. The cushions had long chilled under his skin and flashing neons were much harsher now, one color pushing and chasing another in never-ending circles.

He’s suddenly on his feet. The clothing he put on makes his skin itch. There’s chatter in the dim hallway and he sees a familiar figure. His eyes are cold and unrelenting. Jeonghan tries to trail after him, but the broad figure turns into a much more blurry, demure female. She has straight, pretty rivets of black hair and is dressed in a rosy sashaying dress. The woman stares at him with the same cold gaze and then, the woman transforms into a girl.

Aejeong.

His little sister holds an unfamiliar meanness in her eyes. It makes Jeonghan hesitate, stops him in his tracks. The figure’s outline shudders and all at once, he is a she and she is a he. Broad man, tall woman, little girl, and teenage boy, but they look at him all the same. He wants to call out, plead, and say _come back, don’t leave me_. In this dream, Jeonghan knows none of those words make sense to say to _him_ at all, yet he needs to say it.

The eyes are so familiar from today. They reach deep in a hollowness of black and hate. Jeonghan is cold from every fingertip to his toes. There is no forgiveness here. He wakes up to a still-dark sky with streaks of tears on his pillow.

In the morning, a bottle of vodka is empty by his bedside when he dreams of emptiness and nothing at all.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


we're all just jokers here (Playing Card Black Joker ≊ Joker)

**Mingyu**

— you guys might want to turn on the news

— like right now

**Hansol**

— lol you watch the news?

**Jihoon**

— oh my god.

**Wonwoo**

— oh my god...

**You**

— what is it?

**Wonwoo**

— he did it. jeonghan did it.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


**Jeon Wonwoo**  
@wonwoo_twts ∙ 21 sept 2018  
Yesterday, JBS news announcer Jeon Hyewon released her investigation into a senator involved in a sex cult molesting children, and the attempted cover up by the neighborhood. jbsnews.co.kr/article/171307...

 **623** replies ∙ **25.7K** retweets ∙ **46K** likes

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to keep a little mystery in it, so some things might not make sense. i hope that's alright ,,,,,  
> it's important to note jeonghan and seungcheol do have a love-hate rs which is why they're so gentle to each other one second and harsh the next. both have the power to do so.
> 
> i've really been hating my writing recently so it's kinda hard getting my groove again. but _if you liked something about this chapter_ , comment / kudo / subscribe !  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/214YOONS) / [twt](https://twitter.com/214YOONS) @ 214YOONS


	4. ADORE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **adore.** _verb._ \ ə-ˈdȯr \  
>  1 to regard with loving admiration and devotion  
> 2 to take great pleasure in something  
>  _synonyms:_ love, worship, cherish, prize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's less tension in this chapter than the last one imo so don't get too hyped lol

**GANGNAM GIRL**  
@GN_GOSSIP ∙ 4 oct 2018  
Wen Junhui spotted at Club Rocket at 6pm. Tons of preparations and a myriad of boxes traveling in and out today.

[](https://i.imgur.com/CQvVEuF.jpg?1)[](https://i.imgur.com/9AIkBZR.jpg?1)

 **25** replies ∙ **445** retweets ∙ **1.2K** likes

  


**JOSHUA**  
@hong_joshua ∙ 4 oct 2018  
anyone remember when this face wasn't a model? i do!  
  
happy 22nd birthday to my best friend, jeonghan! 

[](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9a/4b/ee/9a4bee263098f22b097f4127f16a66ac.jpg)[](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/73/8f/16/738f167c000259783a4e71e79c99646a.jpg)

**23** replies ∙ **4.5K** retweets ∙ **5.8K** likes

**jeonghan**  
@jh1004 ∙ 11m   
why are you posting my pics from high school (Weary Face )(Weary Face )

 ****replies ∙ ****retweets ∙ **5** likes

  


**GANGNAM GIRL**  
@GN_GOSSIP ∙ 4 oct 2018  
Clubbers at Rocket are enjoying a soundcheck from Woozi. Word is that Prince JH has invited all of King’s Court to his bday bash. Wonder if the King will show up though? 

[](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/31/7a/d6/317ad6048eaccf19918a601d08f21dde.jpg)[](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/c5/06/33c506f674308f4d8f6a362101394ef2.jpg)

**105** replies ∙ **2.3K** retweets ∙ **4.7K** likes

  


**DK**  
@dokyeoms ∙ 4 oct 2018  
jeonghan thought we could "go soft" with champagne but an hour in and we've ended up with our heads in the toilets anyway

[](https://i.imgur.com/FeFByKa.jpg?1)[](https://i.imgur.com/1UlMfnB.jpg?1)

 **6** replies ∙ **75** retweets ∙ **183** likes

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


By the time he arrived at the club, even he, Choi Seungcheol, had a hard time getting inside. He had to argue with security for two minutes and he usually doesn’t even need to argue at all to get into places. It had hurt his pride a little. He even thought about bribing the security for a moment. But when he did get inside and pushed his way past all the dancefloor bustle, it was a struggle to even reach the stairs to get to the VIP area. Thankfully he saw Jihoon, who also spotted him before he had to go through more security.

The male approaches him with a mocking frown, playfully pouting about how Seungcheol had missed his set downstairs just a few minutes ago.

“I’m sure the crowd went crazy as usual, Jihoonie.” Seungcheol pats Jihoon on the shoulders.

Jihoon smirked at him and gestured him to follow him beyond the tinsels, “Let’s get to the party, big boy.”

“Isn’t this place a little crowded for Jeonghan’s birthday?” Seungcheol ducks under the tinsels, eyeing some girls arguing with the guard to get in.

Jihoon scoffs, “You know Junhui. Every birthday in Roulette has to be planned by him. The bigger, the wilder. And who can do it better than Wen Junhui. There’s no way he would let Jeonghan’s birthday pass without making it the most wanted place to be of the semester.”

They walk down a winding hallway while Seungcheol offhandedly mumbles _Junhui should become an event planner_ under his breath, seeing at how many decorations there are hanging from the ceilings and the brightly lit walls, even for areas that were completely empty.

When they enter the VIP area, Seungkwan and Hansol are on stage doing some kind of weird wiggling dance while Dokyeom and Soonyoung goof off around the couple and point to them with every single object that has more than a one foot length. He even spots Mingyu and Wonwoo chatting it up with Junhui on the couch. Joshua, Minghao, and the birthday boy are nowhere to be found when Seungcheol scans the room. Meanwhile Chan is by the karaoke machine, holding up the golden book and shuffling through the list of songs.

When the boy spots them, he trots on over with an enthusiastic, “Woozi hyung!”

Seungcheol raises a questioning eyebrow towards Jihoon, “ _Woozi_ hyung? Got yourself an admirer, huh.”

Jihoon flashes that embarrassed little smile of his, the one that shows Jihoon has always been humble of his work no matter if everyone calls him a genius in the industry. Jihoon could probably start making a legacy of his own with the royalties he has collected by now.

“I was just about to pick one of your songs to go stage to,” Chan then he ducks his head with the innocence of a little boy standing in front of his idol, “I was wondering if you wanna go up together — maybe?”

Jihoon takes all of Chan’s adoration in strides, easing the boy into small conversation. Seungcheol notices the anxious and excited shuffling of Chan’s feet.

Chan embodies childlike innocence and everything good so easily, in a way no Gangnam kid in this room ever did — with his eagerness and rather smaller stature, a teenager on the fringes of becoming an adult.

What was suspicion before leads Seungcheol to rethink. He could see why Jeonghan treats Chan softer than the others: Jeonghan taking alcohol from his hands, often arriving with Chan in his passenger seat, passing Chan pieces of paper with phone numbers of prominent choreographers in the industry. Jeonghan takes care of Chan, uncharacteristically so. And the idea is so off axis in Seungcheol’s head that he’s a bit desperate to know why. A part of him is even jealous of the stupid nineteen year old, because Chan is looked at by Jeonghan with a kindness he didn’t spare anyone, not even Joshua.

But he doesn’t believe that Jeonghan would do anything for anyone if it didn’t benefit him. Their past interactions has said enough for that.

His attention is caught away from the small conversation to Minghao, bursting his way from the back door and fighting to pull Junhui up from where he sits. Junhui is protesting in whines and swinging Minghao’s hands in his like he’s enjoying a game of chase, while Minghao is adamant about something as he pulls Junhui from the seat. Minghao is a force to be reckoned with compared to Junhui, who seems to be the submissive one in this, being playful yet his eyes calculate Minghao’s every move.

Two heads poke out from the back door, Joshua stepping forward into the room to urge Junhui over finally. But the one Seungcheol is looking at is Jeonghan, whose head is propped over Joshua’s shoulder. He seems not to take interest in the fight slash play happening on the couch and his eyes trail over the room, screening, searching, and then lands on him.

Jeonghan doesn’t smile at him, not that he ever has when spotting Seungcheol, but granted that Jeonghan is the one who invited Seungcheol to his birthday party, Seungcheol shouldn’t have expected differently. Although he doesn’t smile, doesn’t say anything, Jeonghan’s chin is tilted up an inch higher — enough to be described as preening. Maybe it’s just in his mind, but Seungcheol wants to boast a little too.

When Minghao finally gets Junhui up, the four disappear behind the back door quickly after that.

  


**XU MINGHAO**  
@haodesigns ∙ 4 oct 2018  
joshua and i just have a knack for makeup (Lipstick )

[](https://i.imgur.com/1Y3HJaT.jpg?2)[](https://i.imgur.com/dPns7uk.jpg?2)

**5** replies ∙ **1.1K** retweets ∙ **2.4K** likes

  


**junhui**  
@june_hui ∙ 4 oct 2018  
sorry honeys, don’t bother trying to get past the tinsels bc security will kick you out before you can even say desperate 

[](https://i.imgur.com/2Uvg6qD.jpg?1)[](https://i.imgur.com/u3eHPgx.jpg?2)

**10** replies ∙ **2.1K** retweets ∙ **4K** likes

**sera**  
@yusera ∙ 12m  
ugh i've tried to get in but there's tinsel from inside all the way to outside the back and security everywhere!

 **1** replies ∙ **2** retweets ∙ **6** likes

**miyu**  
@mwayu ∙ 1h  
who are those girls in the pic? clearly they're in the back with them but roulette doesn't have any girl members this season (Thinking Face )

 **3** replies ∙ **2** retweets ∙ **10** likes

  


After about an hour of dawdling and watching Mingyu experiment with bomb shots, three of which Seungcheol downed, Jihoon sings a set, and finally the lights of the room swirl around in a crazy show. Seungcheol didn’t even know this room came with such features, a kudo to Junhui. The speakers start with a boom, the room dims even more drastically, and three lone lights shine on their small makeshift stage.

Junhui announces in a velvet voice, “Gentlemen, there’s a special sight tonight that you’re never going to see anywhere else.”

Three figures, dressed in long haired wigs, high heeled boots and miniskirts stand on the stage. Joshua and Junhui are on both sides of Jeonghan. Some r&b song with a deep bass is playing from the speakers, and then all he can see is Jeonghan’s backside, his perky butt swaying from side to side to the melody.

The lyrics all turn to static.

When Jeonghan turns around, Seungcheol’s vision focuses on Jeonghan smirking on the stage. The bright lights highlight his dark eyelashes, curled prominently, and the shimmering surface of gloss painted on his lips. Seungcheol can feel his heart trying to beat outside of his chest. And not because Jeonghan is dressed in feminine clothes — although there’s definitely something sexy about it, it’s because Jeonghan is swaying his hips sensuously, hands traveling along his sides, hips, and legs, looking into his eyes with no restraint in front of the audience they both have.

Seungcheol is relatively aware of the screams and catcalling from around them, but the world is muffled when it comes to Jeonghan on that stage. Only Jeonghan alone exists.

Hopping carefully off the stage, Jeonghan stretches one leg down and his skirt rides dangerously up his thighs. Seungcheol’s mouth might be unhinged at the sight of Jeonghan’s long long legs, soft skin and lean muscle tensing on his thighs, those thighs that Seungcheol wants to mark up and bruise with his kisses.

Junhui stumbles into Jeonghan like he’s drunk, and whether he is or just high off the room’s energy, it’s indistinguishable. He passes Jeonghan to Joshua with a push which has the pair of best friends giggling in each other’s arms. If this was in another context, Seungcheol would think it was quite wholesome if they both didn’t have those goddamn tantalizing high heeled boots slotted against each other.

The two dance together, hips bumping into each other as Jeonghan meets Seungcheol's eyes again, twirling around and the pair of best friends touching backs. Jeonghan slides down Joshua’s backside, his blonde hair catching on Joshua’s blouse and the rest falls demurely around his small face. His normally hooded eyes are wide with an exhilarating and coquettish glaze.

When he pushes up on his knees and raises his arms to loop around Joshua’s neck, he laughs heartily like all their friends around them. But to Seungcheol, all he can see is the shape of Jeonghan’s mouth, and the quirk of his lips become something more sinister with their eyes locked on each other.

Seungcheol can feel them slowly disconnecting from the room.

Joshua untangles from Jeonghan’s grasp with a cheeky but quick push that sends him crashing into Seungcheol’s lap, causing Jeonghan to squeal going down. Seungcheol’s hands naturally open up to catch him and keep them from toppling over. More whistles and catcalls. Mingyu somewhere on his right laughs particularly loud. When he gets his hands on Jeonghan, he can’t help but squeeze the flesh under his fingertips. The feeling has him swallowing a groan as his fingers itch to massage the skin beneath the skirt.

Jeonghan is leaning so close, his hips and ass all plush against his lower front. His neck, so slender, has Seungcheol wanting to nip the skin on his collarbone. Jeonghan’s long hair tickles his face and he’s hit with a smell something faintly like fruity shampoo. Seungcheol is in awe again with Jeonghan’s beauty, his blonde locks waving along with his giggles, framing his face as a delicate thing. Jeonghan is an angel, illuminating the room by just sitting in his lap.

“Give the birthday boy kisses!” Soonyoung shouts distantly into a mic.

Seungcheol fastens his grip onto Jeonghan’s hips because the male is wiggling in his lap, quite torturously for him, as Jeonghan’s friends surround him. Junhui is the first one to dive down and lands a drunken smooch on Jeonghan’s cheek. Then comes Dokyeom and Soonyoung, Chan is quick and light, Joshua joining them in raining pecks onto Jeonghan’s face. Seungkwan cheers on a decibel too loud and too close to the mic.

Then, very subtly, Jeonghan actually inclines his head towards his way, body jittery in his lap, and Seungcheol holds his breath because he actually considers it. Considers kissing Jeonghan. Jeonghan has one awkward arm hugged in between them and his fingers barely grasping the fabric under Seungcheol’s collar. Jeonghan drops a wavering glance at him out of the corner of his eye.

Is it him or did he imagine it?

Seungcheol wants to do it — wants to plant a hard kiss on him and maybe swell up Jeonghan’s lower lip in between his. He doesn’t even realize it but his body has completely tensed up as well.

But maybe he takes too long, frozen in his seat after the others were done just three beats ago, because Jeonghan’s expression drops,. His lips lift up in a stiff attempt to bring back his coy smile. The corner of his mouth, straining and taut, feels misaligned. Jeonghan places both hands on Seungcheol’s wrists and pushes them away, scooting himself off Seungcheol’s lap completely.

Oxygen is rushing back into Seungcheol in fast, sharp cuts. His hands end up bare and clenching around the empty air. He feels so pathetic.

Jeonghan goes hopping back to Joshua, heels clicking and cute mouth pouty while pulling at his clumped eyelashes. He’s the happy birthday boy, and nothing is wrong about the night. Jeonghan doesn’t even look his way for the next ten minutes, the longest ten minutes of this whole night, and disappears out the back door when everyone is distracted by Dokyeom’s boisterous rendition of a girl group song. No one else may have noticed with not one inch of the table free from drinks, but Seungcheol did. Mistake is writing itself all over his brain and Seungcheol needs to fix it. He doesn’t know why, he just knows that Jeonghan’s reaction _hurt_ and it’s hard to concentrate on being drunk and happy when all he can see and feel are Jeonghan’s hands pushing him away.

Seungcheol quietly excuses himself but it’s not like anybody’s listening or paying attention to his whereabouts. He tries to follow the same way that Jeonghan went — straight across the hallway is an open door, the only one with lit up in the hallway. Seungcheol pulls on the knob and enters. The door closes with a small rattle.

Jeonghan is leaning into a mirror, all sorts of makeup products on the vanity, and plucking at the false eyelashes. When he spots Seungcheol in the mirror, Jeonghan averts his gaze back to his reflection. His hands busy with a package of wipes. Stuffy silence engulfs the room.

“Jeonghan.”

“Why don’t you call me _Yoon_ like you always do, Choi.” Jeonghan throws down a wipe with a pathetic splat and leans his body weight onto the counter.

“Jeonghan,” he calls again.

Jeonghan sighs and closes his eyes. His hands are curling up against the table. “Why are you here, Seungcheol?” When Jeonghan glares at him through the mirror, it’s with spite and anger. Seungcheol can feel a red haze creeping towards him.

He swallows, wondering why he came here in the first place, no other words but apologies ready on his tongue. It’s like he owes Jeonghan something, with the electric strain always between them ever since— no, even before that.

Seungcheol treads closer, aligns himself so he can see himself in line with Jeonghan in their reflection. Their connected gazes in the mirror are like pouring gasoline into a fire. He realizes this is the first time they’ve been alone, in a room, just the two of them, since senior year—a nightclub, no black couch this time. The thought ignites a heat in his stomach straight to his groin.

“About before,” Seungcheol starts, inching his way behind Jeonghan. His mind is muddled with indecent thoughts.

“ _Which_ before?” Jeonghan grates with his teeth. His back straightens as if his body is forming a warning for Seungcheol. “Back in that room when you were groping my ass, or—”

Jeonghan’s mouth hangs open mid sentence with a small gasp. He realizes the tips of Seungcheol’s shoes are touching his heels. Distress shudders through his slender body. Panic, thought, and motion collides, then Jeonghan is swiveling around much too late. By that time, Seungcheol already has his hips pressed against Jeonghan's and has Jeonghan’s ass bumping against the vanity.

“Or?” Seungcheol nudges.

Jeonghan’s pupils dilate, one shaky palm pressed on Seungcheol’s chest. Seungcheol is filled with glee at Jeonghan’s miscalculation. “Or when you fucked me into a couch senior year.” It’s bluntness and lust that Jeonghan has when the hand on Seungcheol’s chest is dragging its nails down his shirt.

“Is that what you were thinking about?” Seungcheol asks with mocking innocence.

“You thought about it too, when you texted me at 1am about my ass,” Jeonghan replies with just as much snark.

Seungcheol matches his defiance, only closing their distance. He noses against Jeonghan’s cheek, eyes wandering down. Seungcheol wonders which fruit would Jeonghan’s lip gloss taste like. “Back in that room,” he whispers onto Jeonghan’s skin, lips trailing down his cheekbone until he only tasted air. Jeonghan had shied away, his entire body leaning back onto the vanity to avoid Seungcheol’s lips.

“I thought you hated me,” Jeonghan shudders out shakily.

“I don’t hate you,” Seungcheol corrects quickly. He steadies a hand on the middle of Jeonghan’s back, lips back to ghosting Jeonghan’s skin. “The way you act, the things you do ... they shock me sometimes.” He thinks of how Jeonghan surprised them all with the 7 o’clock news. “But you’re not totally bad,” Seungcheol whispers, a wet sound filling the room when he presses his lips at the corner of Jeonghan’s mouth.

But immediately, Jeonghan turns away. “I don’t do kisses,” he bites out, face ugly like he ate something bitter.

Surprisingly sentimental.

“You didn’t say anything the first time,” Seungcheol says, referring to the very first time they kissed years ago. He lifts his weight away from Jeonghan, trails his fingertips down Jeonghan’s sides but doesn’t chase after him this time. He wants Jeonghan to come to him.

“That was different,” Jeonghan faces him with a perplexing expression. “I was ... _upset_. And drunk. You were a pity fuck.”

Seungcheol refrains from knitting his eyebrows. He remembers it differently.

Upset. Maybe. But drunk. No. Seungcheol recalls Jeonghan was cold and clean when he first touched him, and the only alcohol on Jeonghan’s breath was the one shot that traveled from Seungcheol’s tongue onto his.

But Jeonghan’s attitude has become strange towards him after that night — hot and cold, playful then mean.

Seungcheol plants both his feet on both sides of Jeonghan. He digs his thumbs into the soft dip of Jeonghan’s hips, where Seungcheol knows he’s sensitive. This wrenches a gasp out of Jeonghan.

“But now it’s different? You can’t spare me a _pity fuck_ this time?” Seungcheol presses his forehead against Jeonghan instead of his mouth, eyes boring straight even though Jeonghan wouldn’t meet them.

“Just because I put on a skirt you suddenly want to fuck?” Jeonghan huffs out. His fingers pluck at Seungcheol’s, pulling insistently away from his hips.

“Mm, it is a nice outfit,” Seungcheol hums.

Seungcheol reaches under Jeonghan’s thighs, grips them, and lifts him onto the vanity. Jeonghan instinctively grabs around Seungcheol’s shoulders for stability, and their fronts press together in a closeness that has Jeonghan muffling a moan behind his lips.

“But don’t misunderstand, what I want is _underneath_ ,” Seungcheol teases with his fingers dancing under Jeonghan’s knees. “They are pretty boots though,” he says and snakes his fingers along Jeonghan’s inner thighs. His eyes follow the movement of Jeonghan’s adam’s apple and his quick little breaths as Seungcheol’s taps past the mini skirt. “Pretty little skirt too,” he adds.

One of Jeonghan’s hands fly to grasp onto Seungcheol’s wandering fingers. “We shouldn’t,” he gasps out.

Seungcheol quirks a brow, hand stilled but his thumb persists in rubbing at the inside of Jeonghan’s thigh. The skin there is so easy to sink into and bounce back. Seungcheol would love to get his mouth on it like he can feel the heat radiating onto his fingers from between Jeonghan’s legs.

Jeonghan’s eyelids flutter as his grip loosens and puts pressure on Seungcheol’s wrist instead. Seungcheol takes it as a sign and lets his hands slide up the plump flesh and cup at the warmth. His hands meet something scratchy. _No way_. Seungcheol has to swallow down the saliva gathering.

“Are you wearing lace panties, Jeonghanie?” he growls.

“Junhui’s .. idea...” is all Jeonghan can whimper as his cock gives a small twitch through the panties. Seungcheol can feel a damp spot against the pad of his fingers.

“Already wet?” Seungcheol pumps at Jeonghan’s cock and rubs it against the lace.

“Don’t,” Jeonghan whines and snaps his thighs together, hips squirming and traps Seungcheol’s hand between his legs. It only encourages him to flick his thumb onto where he feels the head of Jeonghan’s cock wetting the fabric. “ _Seungcheol_ ,” he’s moaning and an instant shock flies up Seungcheol’s body at the sound of his name, then he’s cursing.

It’s not nearly enough to just touch Jeonghan. He needs to know what he does to Seungcheol.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he tears his hand out from Jeonghan’s skirt and yanks Jeonghan by his legs so he can feel Seungcheol’s hardness underneath his pants. The feeling has them both groaning. Seungcheol can’t help his hips thrusting against the rivaling heat. The added friction from the layers between is torturous, but Jeonghan with his skirt pushed up to his hips, dark black panties peeking out and creamy skin all over, makes it feel so good.

Jeonghan has his nails digging into the skin of his shoulder, other hand clawing down his shirt. His thighs draw Seungcheol in even further, hips pushing back and forth, back and forth to chase the bliss accumulating between them.

“You gonna come just from humping me, Cheol-ah?” Jeonghan curls his sneer behind the degrading endearment.

But Jeonghan himself is unraveling, involuntary ‘ _ah ah ah_ ’s escaping, legs splaying apart, and fingers gripping onto Seungcheol’s shirt like a lifeline. It’s almost as good as actually fucking into Jeonghan. But not actually, because he knows what it feels like and he misses it. He lusts for it, wants to feel his cock sink into Jeonghan’s warm, wet, tightness.

“I think you’re gonna dirty those panties first, _Hannie_.”

“You’re, uhn, overestimating yourself. As always, Seungcheol.”

“F—” Seungcheol hisses, his tongue edging along his teeth to ease the tension in his entire body. He desperately wants to sink his teeth into Jeonghan’s plump lips, his mouth screaming for matching pressure against it. Instead, Seungcheol satiates the desire by bending down to bite at the junction of Jeonghan’s jaw and neck.

Jeonghan lets out a stifled squeal from his throat. The pressure in his cock builds.

_This is dangerous._

Seungcheol knows he’s reaching the edge, but he can’t stop his viscous thrusting to chase the heat, hard hips ramming into each other, Seungcheol’s pale fingers whitening with his own harsh grip. And Jeonghan lets him hold him like this, a doll whose body is undulating, controlled by Seungcheol’s big hands. Seungcheol hopes he leaves the impressions of his bruises in Jeonghan’s hips to remember, feel, want him again in the morning.

He can’t hear anything, can’t focus on anything except this.

“W-wait, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan’s fingers are scratching against the back of his neck.

Seungcheol’s breaths are coming out in heavy pants and he’s so close he can taste ecstasy on his tongue. Seungcheol buries his face into Jeonghan’s neck, stutters, “G-god, Jeongh—”

Then, Jeonghan’s body is tensing underneath him, his thighs closing up and locking Seungcheol at a standstill. Jeonghan’s fingers are frantically ripping Seungcheol’s hands from his waist. Seungcheol can feel his bliss retreating torturously fast. Seungcheol is no longer in control.

Still, he grunts against Jeonghan’s neck with heavy breaths, desperately thrusting his hips, but to no avail. Seungcheol’s erection only barely brushes against Jeonghan’s own hardness. Seungcheol wrangles with his wrists in Jeonghan’s grasp. For such a slim person, Jeonghan has a lot of strength. Seungcheol has to pull his face out of Jeonghan’s neck to spit out a strained, “what the fuck?”

Jeonghan’s eyes are looking behind him, darting spontaneously until they trail back to Seungcheol like he was previously distracted. His eyes clear and slowly, a smug grin carves itself on Jeonghan’s mouth, “Oh, had to come, babe?” Then Jeonghan is shoving him away, hopping off the counter in one swift move.

“What are you doing?” Seungcheol asks with his hands halfway reaching towards him, ready to lift Jeonghan back onto the vanity and continue pressing their bodies together.

The room fills with the harsh sound of his hands being slapped away. “Don’t touch me,” Jeonghan spits, arms closing in and wrapping around himself.

Seungcheol has to take half a step back from the hostility coming from Jeonghan’s slitted eyes and hunched form. Just a few seconds ago, Jeonghan had Seungcheol clutched close to him desperately in need, and now Jeonghan has his arms in a protective shield against from his touch.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Seungcheol reaches out again, only to hesitate and curl his fingers in, hovering over the other.

Something in Jeonghan’s eyes flash, corners of his lips straining, the same expression as earlier when Seungcheol missed his timing.

“N _o_ ,” Jeonghan denies almost defensively. “You just — you should have a taste of your own medicine, Choi.”

“What?” Seungcheol steps closer, trying to understand whatever is coming out of Jeonghan’s mouth, but Jeonghan is sweeping past him to the exit. The way Jeonghan twists and avoids colliding their shoulders twists something inside him, like Jeonghan wants to erase all the things they did to each other in this room.

As soon as the door slams he hears Jeonghan’s voice beyond the door. “Hansol! I almost didn’t see you.” Seungcheol’s breath picks up. He can immediately tell Jeonghan’s faking it. After years of observing Jeonghan’s little tricks, he recognizes the artificial tone of shock behind his words.

“Yeah, I was looking for Seungcheol hyung.” Hansol’s voice comes out surprisingly clear. _He’s close._ Fear strikes through Seungcheol’s whole body. Hansol must be standing right outside the door. His cousin continues, “Thought he was inside, but it was locked.”

And what if Hansol had tried to come in? What if he heard us? Seungcheol couldn’t imagine explaining their situation to him. All the pretenses they’ve put up, the arguments and the hate he’s directed towards Jeonghan — how would Seungcheol explain that? And then beg Hansol not to tell anyone else.

“He must have gone to the bathroom,” Jeonghan lies.

Seungcheol’s heartbeat gradually decreases when he hears the chatter decrease in volume as he assumes they were walking further from the room. He can picture Jeonghan leading his cousin away with his innocent face and unassuming words. Seungcheol is left to stare at the door, empty hands closing and opening. His mind is stuck in a loop, replaying when Jeonghan locked his thighs, how easily Jeonghan threw him off— just as easy as the power Jeonghan gave Seungcheol over him.

If Jeonghan hadn’t pushed him off, if he hadn’t been so repulsed at that specific time... pushing Seungcheol away so easily as if Seungcheol didn’t have one ounce of control over the other at all. The whole time, Jeonghan was the one luring Seungcheol in when the game started, and whatever Jeonghan wanted to give to Seungcheol, he would gladly eat up.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


Jeonghan stumbles inside his family house, trying his best to remain quiet. He lines his shoes next to his father’s, the biggest pair in the family, and slides his mother’s heels to the side, so he can fit his pair of shoes in between. Beside their mother’s pair is a gap where Jeonghwa’s shoes go, and next to it are Aejeong’s darling little pink sneakers. From an order to biggest to smallest, just the way his mother likes it.

Jeonghan holds a mini bouquet of baby’s breaths, small and tiny things that Aejeong adores. His sister loves things in miniature sizes. He’s giddy with the joy that radiates through his body. Although it could be said nothing was gained tonight, some things could have even gone terribly wrong, there is a small ray of triumph coursing through his body as big as Junhui on one of his oxy trips.

“Jeonghan?”

His joy falls dim as fright climbs its way up instead. Jeonghan knows better than to jump from surprise, this scene happened too often when he was in high school. Jeonghan slowly winds his head to face the voice, not out of fear of what he would see, but _who_ he would see.

His mother stands at the top of the stairs, in her long flowing dress hanging from her little lithe body, a pale pink that he adored and chased as a child. She resembles a glowing goddess from a children’s storybook— a woman with limitless beauty and power despite her dainty body. Although she is tall for a Korean woman, his mother would move with such a delicateness that when standing next to a woman shorter than her, she would always appear small.

“Eomma,” Jeonghan calls up to her.

His mother holds herself up with grace, her bony fingers delicately touching the railing, in a way none of her kids could ever imitate, though they tried. Jeonghan tried. Every time his mother opens her mouth, sugar and sweetness flowed out. But as a baby, Jeonghan learned that her words were like medicine, he yearned and shied away from the ugly taste all the same. She looks down at him as if she could smell the alcohol in his mouth, on his clothes, see the traces of hands that had touched him in unspeakable places, hands that dirtied him earlier.

“You’re quite late.”

“I know, Eomma. I just wanted to see Aejeong. She—”

“It’s far too late for that. You’ve completely missed her recital.” She peers at him with those doe wide eyes, ones Jeonghan inherited from her.

“Eomma...” his mother has always had the power to reduce Jeonghan into a little child. “I told you that I would be with my friends, that I couldn’t come.”

“And I told you that it was your sister’s recital today.”

If anyone else saw her, they’d drop their mouths in awe, her strong will bursting from that little body. But not to Jeonghan. He knew what inhuman strength his mother was capable of. She has always been strict and unrelenting.

“Eomma...” he feels like he’s been calling her and calling her for hours, years on end. She is a million miles away, on top of that staircase. He can feel his voice threatening to shake. “Do you know what day it is today?” _He wants to scream._ “It's my birthday, mom," but all that comes out is a boy’s voice.

His mother tilts her head down, brows furrowed and eyes glossed with pity, round in child-like confusion. “Honey, you should have come home earlier then. Instead of starting all this fuss and making eomma worried for you."

Once again, the disappointment seeps into his skin like a stained napkin.

“Now if you insist on staying in my house, go up to bed _quietly_ , honey.” And as always, she leaves a little warmth at the end, enough for Jeonghan to want to be mothered, to be adored and scolded.

“Yes, eomma. Sorry, eomma.” Reduced to an admonished little child.

His mother turns away from him, her long, beautiful dress shifting behind her. A gasp escapes her thin, little body when she spots the dainty figure on the opposite railing, eyes absorbed. “Aejeong-ah, you should be sleeping right now.” She’s suddenly so soft, no edges at all. “You shouldn’t be learning from your brother. Don’t want you to be too tired out, darling.”

Aejeong is dressed in her own flowing dress, a complete mini replica of their mom’s. She blinks at their mother, eyes peeking down at him, then shrinks into her shoulders, “Yes, eomma. Sorry, eomma.”

  


In Aejeong’s room, the baby’s breaths are in a vase that previously held other flowers, ones that Aejeong immediately dumped out upon seeing Jeonghan’s gift for her. She was eager and spoiled with the joy of a child, demanding to showcase Jeonghan’s flowers _right now_ that all previously loved things were discarded without a drop of care.

Aejeong’s head lays in his lap, Jeonghan brushing through it with a comb like Jeonghwa always did with him when they were little, even when he reminded her that he was a boy and she’d be disappointed when the comb met air and reached his neck.

“Are you gonna go back tonight, oppa?”

Jeonghan hums, feigning consideration even though Aejeong could think of the answer herself.

His younger sister shuffles her body to face him, her eyes are like her father’s, a set of monolid downturned, round eyes that were perpetually pouting at you. “Don’t go.” She fixes him to lay down with her. “You can stay here with me,” she whispers like they were sharing a secret between them.

Jeonghan just sets on a small smile and continues petting her hair while they lay there. “Eomma wouldn’t like that.”

This silences her. Jeonghan knows she’s battling against going against their mother in her head. Her little girl voice pleads, “Don’t be like unnie, okay? Just because she got all busy then got her own place, you ended up doing that too. And soon, you won’t come back at all.” Aejeong whines louder like a child on the verge of a tantrum.

“Does noona not come back often?”

“Oh, she does. For daddy. But she’s not a runaway like you.” Aejeong giggles as she says it.

“I’m not a runaway,” Jeonghan replies while tugging on his sister’s baby hairs.

“Oh, you don’t call disappearing for a week running away?”

“That was in high school!” Jeonghan protests, hands diving to tickle his sister in retaliation.

Once, he had been so sick, so tired of this home that wasn’t a home, and didn’t go back for a week without a word to anyone. He stayed at Junhui’s, whose own parents status are in a permanent state of _busy_ , but Jeonghan’s mother didn’t call the Hong’s, didn’t call Joshua, didn’t report him missing or anything. When Jeonghan did come back, it was for two shooken and bruised arms, a scolding _how dare you worry your mother_ , _what would I tell people?_ and Jeonghan fully understood his presence was a mere fly in his mother’s household.

“If you want, when you get bigger you can move out just like unnie and oppa did.” He leans over her, bopping his sister on the nose with a light tap.

Aejeong purses her lips, whispering, “Eomma wouldn’t like that.”

Jeonghan has to put the sad smile away. “No, not for you.” But whether he means no, their mother would control her for life, or no, she wouldn’t be able to refuse you, Jeonghan never says.

“Oppa’s sorry for not being at your recital, Aejeong-ah.”

“It’s okay, oppa. Jun oppa wouldn’t have let you spend your birthday watching your little sister prance around some stage.”

Jeonghan places a kiss into her hair and whispers into it, “I’m sure you were wonderful. You’re going to be a famous ballerina one day.”

“As famous as you?”

“Even more famous than me,” he replies, he swipes against her cheek playfully.

Aejeong’s expression turns sobering. “Eomma sure thinks so,” she says quietly, eyes shining. For once, Aejeong looks like the young adult she is and not the little girl she was coddled to be. It’s like she’s playing a child’s dress-up game as she lays in her pink sleeping gown, peering up at him with her serious face.

“Yes, she does,” Jeonghan swallows.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Think I’m good enough?” She asks, urging with her wide downturned eyes.

Jeonghan wonders how much does his sister realize about their sweet, bony figured mother. Their smaller, girlish, and illuminating little sister whom mother named _affection_ after her first cries into the world while his older sister, _pure flower_ , and he, _clean country_ , looked on. His little sister, a daughter of Kim Hyejeong, only knows adoration while Jeonghan, son of Kim Hyejeong, lives in a world where adoration was never taught to him.

His sisters are momma’s darling little dolls, everything she wanted and pleases to do with. From brushing their long hair, dressing them in pretty clothes, to praising their achievements and nice personalities. Things which his mother did while he watched from close but away, jealousy and loathing filling his childhood. But girls named _pure flower_ and _affection_ aren’t girls born to be hated, and Jeonghan never had it in him to hurt any of his sisters.

“Of course,” he whispers out with thumb pushing lightly on the baby fat on her cheek now, gentler, like she is a delicate object, “Of course, I believe you’re good enough.”

Words he never had spoken to him.

Aejeong’s lips spread into a placated smile, happy little girl, and presses her face into Jeonghan’s chest. “I think so too.”

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


In the morning, Jeonghan is woken up by an obnoxious honking. When he looks out the curtains, Junhui is in the passenger seat of Joshua’s car, leaning over and pressing at the honk. He waves in big exaggerated motions through the sunroof when he sees Jeonghan at the window. Chan is in the backseat looking sheepish but puts his own hand up for a smaller, shy wave.

By the time, Jeonghan has his slippers on and shuffled halfway down the stairs, he can hear his mother speaking to Joshua in her thin, sweet tone. She’s standing in the entrance with the door open just barely enough to seem welcoming. Joshua’s figure barely makes it into view.

“I heard you were planning to get your MBA at SNU. What a wonderful choice. If only our Jeonghan had your brains, he would pursue grad school too.”

Joshua’s smile falters for a second, and Jeonghan is thankful his mother’s charms aren’t totally blinding.

“Thank you, eomonim.”

Jeonghan can only see her back, her bony shoulder blades prominent behind her thin white silk dress. He can picture her now—that demure, understanding smile and one hand clutched to her breast as if she was protecting herself from an intruder.

“I’m sorry you can’t stay, Joshua. Jeonghan has had a tiring night and really shouldn’t be entertaining guests right now.”

“I just left a little something inside for Jeonghan.”

“Yes, that’s very nice of you, dear,” she says before she could let Joshua continue. His mother takes a step back, hand on the door and slowly guiding it closed inch by inch. “You boys have a nice day then,” she makes her final statement before closing the door.

When she turns around and notices Jeonghan on the stairs, she barely blinks but presses a hand to her chest and admonishes him. “Goodness, Jeonghan. You gave me a fright.”

“Sorry, eomma. I just saw my friends outside. Was that Joshua?” He asks even though he already saw Joshua clearly outside the door.

“Yes. Your friend had some strange thing leftover for you. Ahjumma took it away before it could start smelling.” She waves her hand to the kitchen and wrinkles her nose as if she was mildly disturbed. “Honestly, Jeonghan. Please, tell your friends not to just pop up whenever they want for visits. Our house is barely ready for visitors.” She says this as if their house doesn’t have a maid cleaning by the hour. He remembers when they were children, she would grab them by the arms and scold them if they put something out of place.

“Of course, eomma.”

His mother sniffs, shoots him a sharp look with her eyes downturned, and sweeps past him down the hallway.

When Jeonghan gets to the kitchen, their maid, a sweet older lady which momma spared to look at twice a day, came in with a bowl and set it in front of him.

“Your friend left this for you. I thought you might want to drink it so I heated it up.”

Jeonghan thanks her as she takes her leave. When he picks up his spoon, he only then realizes what was swimming in the darkly colored soup.

Seaweed. Joshua brought seaweed soup for him.

A lump forms in his throat and the spoon in his hand feels more heavy than usual. He never really expected to have seaweed soup every time his birthday came around each year. Of course, he had envied those kids who had mothers who would make seaweed soup for their birthdays, but Jeonghan knew better than to be foolish and hope.

When Jeonghan takes his first spoonful, it’s quite the taste of seaweed and salty water on his tongue. It’s nothing extraordinary and actually not even that tasty, but Jeonghan finds himself unable to stop scooping soup onto his spoon.

That morning, Jeonghan sits alone in the kitchen, his feet cold against the tiled floor. Each spoonful makes his stomach grow warmer as the soup reaches the bottom of the bowl. For some reason, the soup grows even more salty, but that may have been because of his tears falling down into each spoonful.

Maybe seaweed soup tastes better when coming from friends.

  


Jeonghan

Joshua

Junhui

Seungkwan

Chan

Dokyeom

Soonyoung

Minghao

Jeonghan and his Snakes (Snake )

**Joshua**

— hey jeonghan

— we remembered you didn’t have any seaweed soup yesterday

**Junhui**

— clearly an atrocity to not follow the korean tradition so we brought you some

**Chan**

— happy 22nd, hyung!

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who subscribed for jeongcheol smut only to get angst  
> that’s me,, boo boo the fool who thought she could write jeongcheol without getting caught up in plot
> 
> thanks for all the warm comments last chapter ! honestly, i find myself a tryhard writer but seeing all the comments last time were so encouraging that they kept me smiling the whole day ! thanks for giving this fic lots of love, hard uwus ♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> i would love to see comments about what you guys think of some symbolism or little details you've caught on so far ? like i said, i'm a tryhard so i just wanna see what's working ✿
> 
> as always, kudo / comment / subscribe !  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/214YOONS) / [twt](https://twitter.com/214YOONS) @ 214YOONS


	5. CONCEAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **conceal.** _verb._ \ kən-ˈsēl \  
>  1 to keep secret; to prevent or avoid disclosing or divulging  
> 2 to place out of sight  
>  _synonyms:_ hide, bury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you know how hard it is to write smut when you're stressed :) hahahha... has it been a month wow

**yuri**  
trulyurs ∙ 1 nov 2018  
@GN_GOSSIP you guys, prince j and the king are here at the wedding like BOTH OF THEM with their families!!

[](https://66.media.tumblr.com/e8d05bad71c5d73710cadf433ac5c258/tumblr_nvjwl3MWOm1t9n75fo2_1280.png)[](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/64/06/fd/6406fdff3e3385d96b456dab1f8e420d.jpg)

 **65** replies ∙ **2.1K** retweets ∙ **3.5K** likes

**hyunAH**  
@hyunah ∙ 13m   
omg your family got invited? if only i could see them ugh so much missed

 ****replies ∙ ****retweets ∙ **6** likes

**joy**  
@p_joyous ∙ 46m  
god i can't wait to hear the tea

 ****replies ∙ **3** retweets ∙ **18** likes

  


For the first time that evening, Choi Seungcheol stands a few feet away from Yoon Jeonghan in public view. The people around them feign conversation while keeping one eye on the two respective families. Rather, Seungcheol stands with his father who’s strengthening C Group’s ties, while Seungcheol stays alert of the presence just diagonal from him. Jeonghan and his mother.

The whole afternoon, both the Choi family and the Yoon family had been seated in complete opposite areas of the wedding hall. And for good reason, because even if they were in completely separate areas, people still whipped their heads back and forth between the families. Seungcheol can’t remember if they’d been this talked about since Seungcheol decided to go to Columbia and Jeonghan decided to stay for Seoul. He had underestimated just how intense the fight over media influence has gotten between their two powerful organizations.

The wedding is another event where political alliances are made among businessmen, and it seems almost _everyone_ in Gangnam has been invited. Explains why both his family and Jeonghan’s family are in the same area mingling together.

It’s truly unprecedented.

The two families have been engaging in a silent war from the respective places of their 50-story high towers. Seungcheol expects that all the guests here will be spreading gossip about them, even though at the end of the event, not one word will have been exchanged between the families despite all the invasive glances and secretive whispers.

(Seungcheol, on the other hand, has been here since 10AM, watched the sun go down, seen people eat too much cake, and he has had enough of fake pleasantries. Seungcheol couldn’t help but gravitate towards Jeonghan when he’d spent the whole time restraining from looking across the hall. He has other plans that don’t include ignoring the very person he’s been eyeing since the moment he arrived. Gossip be damned.)

Seungcheol keeps a close eye on the mother-son duo, waiting for his chance to corner Jeonghan when he’s alone. But in observing, Seungcheol has noticed something.

It isn’t the first time Seungcheol has seen the Yoon family at events. Of course not. But somehow, Seungcheol finds it a little strange and also peculiar that Jeonghan’s mom is surrounded by people, and not on the pretense of making alliances. You’d almost assume that she is the face and head of YMH, and not Jeonghan’s father and his elder sister.

His mother, Kim Hyejeong, acts like a magnet — drawing people in with her benevolence and clean, pale pink dress. It’s not the sort of thing most wives of businessmen wear. Most women would wear a formal blouse and pencil skirt in a muted color, but Jeonghan’s mom almost always shows up in some sort of soft, flowing dress or bottom — fitted to her waist, of course, so you could differentiate her tiny waist size from other’s.

But Seungcheol could understand a little bit of why she attracted people like that, after all, Jeonghan has the same effect on people as she does.

He hasn’t seen the mother and son duo together, up close, since coming back. When he was younger, too young to be recognized for his achievements, he’d been able to be near the Yoon family without fuss. Together, they’re radiating regal. But for some reason, it feels like he is seeing them together for the first time. There’s something new about it, or different, Seungcheol notices.

When a partner makes his greetings and leaves, the mother and son become alone, and Jeonghan’s mother ever so slightly brings Jeonghan closer to her with a gentle arm as she speaks.

Jeonghan’s eyes are casted to the ground, avoiding his mother’s gaze. And even though Kim Hyejeong has her warm smile on, the one even his aunt says that makes her look like some kind of fairy, her eyes are blank, and an eerie sensation creeps up his skin. Like two puzzle pieces that fit together but the picture doesn’t match at all. When Seungcheol makes that note, Jeonghan’s mother, just standing there, looks a little bit sinister.

Jeonghan pastes his own placating smile on, but his eyes say that he’s struggling. It’s an expression Seungcheol recognizes now, from those little moments Seungkwan says something out of line, when Junhui treads across the line with his teasing, or when Joshua makes a suggestion for him to eat something more. But most often, he looks at Chan with that expression when they linger apart from the rest of the group and Chan is chatting passionately about something. But Seungcheol hasn’t figured the _why_ for that one yet.

Jeonghan’s mother has a strong hold onto Jeonghan’s elbow, quite a grip for a lady with such bony fingers from what Seungcheol’s seeing. She leans in closer towards him quite gently as if even through exchanging hushed conversation was a sort of affection.

Seungcheol shuffles to catch a busboy, trying to find excuses to move closer. He only manages to catch fragments of her words.

_“Don’t embarrass me like you........”_

_“Enough th.........and sell your body for public viewing”_

_“..........what you look like under those clothes”_

Her words make Seungcheol’s heart beat a little faster, and he shivers inside his stuffy suit. Seungcheol has never taken Jeonghan’s mother to be one that’s able to have such a despicable manner. This demure lady, upper-class and revered by most Gangnam housewives, hides behind her delicate pink dress and tiny smile to spit mortifying insults at her son. And moreover, her son is Yoon Jeonghan, lead producer of the Daily Seoul National University news, global billboard supermodel, being vilified by his own mother.

It has been an open secret that Jeonghan’s mother didn’t take a liking to Jeonghan’s career as a model. People started realizing it after the first few "please don’t encourage him” when Jeonghan started out. But Kim Hyejeong, in all her benevolence, is an incredibly secretive woman and family secrets rarely made it out of their house. The Yoon Jeonghan he knows is someone he doesn’t know quite at all.

Seungcheol doesn’t realize he’s been staring for a little too long until Jeonghan’s eyes rise from the ground and land on him. There’s a spark of surprise, then his lips curve ever so slightly, something barely noticeable that you couldn’t even tell he had been smirking. Mirth, still ever cautious, is sprinkled in his eyes.

Even if he’s still shaken, Seungcheol’s shoulders straighten considerably as he hides his smile behind his champagne glass.

Jeonghan’s mother squeezes onto Jeonghan’s elbow, forcing his attention away from Seungcheol. All previous moments of joy are erased as Jeonghan returns to his position with his head slightly bowed. Docile and submissive like training a dog for obedience.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


Seungcheol finds Jeonghan behind the multiple layers of sheer backdrop and curtains of actual flowers. Jeonghan has a champagne flute in one hand and a labeless bottle dangling in his other hand. He looks around before engaging. A lone person shuffling from the ballroom and into the hallway. You could probably hear a pin drop by the sheer enormity and silence in the section.

“Really? Here too?” Seungcheol weaves his way into the shaded area, practically sectioned off from the rest of the wedding.

Jeonghan lifts his head, lazily leaning against the pillar. “What?”

Seungcheol has learned from the past few parties since coming back that Jeonghan has developed quite the alcohol tolerance and wherever there’s some kind of gathering, you can count on Jeonghan to have a bottle of hard liquor near him. And Seungcheol’s willing to bet that the bottle in Jeonghan’s hand is unlabeled for a reason.

“Your kidney is going to fail by the time you hit your 40’s at the rate you’re drinking.”

Jeonghan makes no attempt to hide the bottle in his hands. “Wouldn’t that be a blessing.”

Seungcheol’s face twists up, and then he tugs the bottle out of Jeonghan’s hand. Half of the liquid is gone but Jeonghan’s eyes look alert as ever. _God, just how much can Jeonghan drink?_ Seungcheol steals the champagne flute and downs the spoonful of remaining alcohol to Jeonghan’s outraged _Hey!_ It’s awfully bitter on his tongue and Seungcheol knows Jeonghan was definitely not drinking champagne. Seungcheol peeks his head out of the flower curtains to whistle down a busboy and leave the liquor with him, stealing some water while he’s at it.

When he faces Jeonghan again, the male is sporting a full pout and indignant glare. “Stop drinking,” Seungcheol orders. “I don’t think your parents would be happy if the paparazzi outside caught you stumbling out of here drunk.”

Jeonghan lets his head fall back onto the pillar as he groans in a sarcastic lull. “You sound like Joshua.”

Seungcheol winces at Jeonghan’s action and before he’s aware of what he’s doing, Seungcheol has one hand raised and cups it on the back of Jeonghan’s head where he hit his head on the pillar. “You’ll hurt yourself,” he says lightly, thumb caressing the surface of hair.

“Great. I'll fulfill my mother’s wishes.”

His lips pull into a frown as Seungcheol tries to evaluate the meaning behind Jeonghan’s words. In the meantime, Seungcheol lifts the cup of water against Jeonghan’s lips to urge him to drink it or risk drenching his suit in water.

“Your mother...” Seungcheol starts, recalling the sight of Jeonghan’s sagging shoulders in his mother’s pink-gowned figure; the way she had flashed her doe, unfeeling eyes and perfected smile at her son, “She has this kind of pristine aura. She’s.. beautiful...”

Jeonghan keeps his gaze down, mumbling around the plastic rim a sort of exhausted and spited response, “Of course.”

“..and cold,” Seungcheol finishes.

This has Jeonghan whipping his head up in surprise. Seungcheol levels their eyes in a knowing gaze, almost proud in the reaction.

“You resemble her a lot,” he quips. He can trace Jeonghan’s lips pinching together and laxing like he’s struggling to say something.

A stray drop of water dribbles from the corner of Jeonghan’s mouth and Seungcheol barely manages to swipe it across the swell of Jeonghan’s bottom lip before it fell. And he might have put a little more pressure on the rosy plushness than needed, just so he could see it sink around his thumb.

Jeonghan’s face is warm in his palm. “But you’re not _completely_ like her,” Seungcheol says.

He tears his gaze from the lips and is met with Jeonghan’s round double lidded eyes peering curiously back at him. What Jeonghan was about to say is now lost. There’s heavy air between them that stretches on. Seungcheol doesn’t move his hand from Jeonghan’s face, or his thumb from Jeonghan’s bottom lip.

Jeonghan’s eyes are slightly glistening even though there are only slight slivers of light sneaking in from the curtains. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks a little breathlessly.

“Like what?” Seungcheol echoes.

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan stretches the pause like he’s troubled and picking away at the right words, “like you can’t look away.”

_I'm just attracted to you. More and more each day._

Seungcheol wants to regurgitate all the thoughts he’s been having ever since he’s put his thumb on Jeonghan’s lip. _Just what are you thinking under that pretty face?_ Jeonghan’s beautiful and cold mother. His long, blond hair. _Why have you changed so much?_ The softness he has when he’s picking on Chan. Yet the quick and scalding cruelty towards Seungkwan, even to sweet Minghao that can be unleashed at the drop of a hat. I can't seem to get you out of my head.

_Why?_

All are on the tip of his tongue, “You’re just,” but even with Jeonghan’s almond eyes, those ideally cut double lids urging for answers, "really pretty,” Seungcheol resigns, letting his hand fall from Jeonghan’s face.

It’s the least of what he wants to say.

Jeonghan’s hands come up to latch onto the lapels of his suit. The muscles in his face clench and Seungcheol can’t tell if Jeonghan is about to punch him or kiss him. But Jeonghan wraps his fingers around his nape and Seungcheol stops breathing when Jeonghan slowly leans in. Seungcheol doesn’t dare look away when Jeonghan tilts his head, only to pass his lips and whisper next to his ear.

“Why don’t you take me somewhere else?”

There’s a tad bit of disappointment sinking in. One that he curses himself for feeling. He shouldn’t have ideas or desires to kiss Jeonghan who doesn’t do kisses. But most of his heart is still beating rapidly from the warmth of Jeonghan’s lips against his ear and the seductive suggestion.

From there it’s all hastened feet tripping over each other, muffled laughs, and rubbing against each other like horny teenagers. Their way down to the parking lot is torturous with their hands traveling — hasty touches trying to feel through clothes, trailing hands along his sides, and Seungcheol grabbing handfuls of Jeonghan’s perky ass.

 

“You drove here yourself?” Jeonghan asks, eyes glancing around the interior of Seungcheol’s car while he’s seated on Seungcheol’s lap in the driver’s seat.

“It’s a nice ride, huh?” Seungcheol smirks against Jeonghan’s skin, nipping at his adam’s apple. Jeonghan’s breath stutters on a choked gasp. It distracts Jeonghan from the real meaning, that Seungcheol should have arrived here with his family’s car _together_. But the fact is, Seungcheol hasn’t been living with his family since he had come back.

Seungcheol pulls Jeonghan’s hair band all the way off. “You look better with your hair down,” he says as he watches the blonde locks fall around Jeonghan’s face.

“My mother likes it up,” Jeonghan points out.

And like an act of rebellion, Seungcheol justl cards his hand through the back ends of Jeonghan’s hair. Jeonghan straddling him chest to chest now, partly soft and _graceful_ , knowing the velvet touch in a painting without being able to touch it, but also — Jeonghan staring down at him — Seungcheol thinks, he’s somehow _sharp_ and strikingly devilish.

It makes Seungcheol want to mess him up, and let Jeonghan mess _him_ up in return.

Luckily, where Seungcheol parked is far away from the entrance and shrouded in the shadows, maybe it’s a plus that there are cars covering them on both sides. Nothing seems amiss unless someone was looking for something specific.

So Seungcheol lets the two of them abandon all reason, right now, in this parking lot, where he can pretend to shove his guilt and pride where no one’s looking.

Seungcheol has to release the clutch to move them back in the seat a bit. Jeonghan’s eyes are hazy, red dotting across his cheeks, and his breaths coming out in pants. He could pass as drunk if Seungcheol didn’t already know that Jeonghan is just caught up in a fever of lust. Jeonghan’s fingers roughly pluck down the buttons of Seungcheol’s shirt and pushes it past his shoulder with little delicacy. When Jeonghan has Seungcheol’s torso naked, Jeonghan is diving down to nip and grope the expanse of his chest where Jeonghan could reach, the small area between Seungcheol, him, and the steering wheel.

 _He’s so eager_. Seungcheol would chuckle but seeing Jeonghan desire him so openly, compared to Jeonghan’s birthday when he flinched away from Seungcheol, there was nothing humorous about it at all. Only _want_ and _to touch_ burned through.

Seungcheol already has Jeonghan’s blazer thrown carelessly into the passenger seat with Jeonghan’s curves showing through his unbuttoned top. He resembles a holy figure as he sits on top of Seungcheol’s lap — the light shining from behind the windshield, casting a glow around Jeonghan’s figure. The dip in his curves show through his open shirt, pink flushed on Jeonghan’s cheeks.

Seungcheol can feel Jeonghan’s need rushing through his veins. Jeonghan ruts against him so Seungcheol makes fast work of pulling along the waistband of Jeonghan’s slacks.

But Jeonghan doesn’t move out of Seungcheol’s lap to undress. Instead, Jeonghan’s hips flinch back. Seungcheol’s hands are being slapped away hastily from Jeonghan’s pants.

Jeonghan breathes out a strong, “No,” and fumbles to pulls down his zipper himself, “like this,” he says and interlaces his fingers with Seungcheol’s to guide him into his boxers. It’s uncharacteristic for Jeonghan to take the lead, physically instead of with words. Different from Jeonghan’s usual game of seduction with tentative touches and torturously slow unraveling to suck up all of Seungcheol’s attention and drive him crazy for control.

Jeonghan is hot and throbbing when Seungcheol gets his hand around him. The warmth of Jeonghan’s hand stays firm against his back, acting as support to urge Seungcheol to touch him. The inside of Seungcheol’s mouth dries up and his eyes can barely devour the sight in front of him.

Jeonghan’s whole body shudders in his lap, elongating and back arching as Seungcheol tightens his grip and finally starts pumping him with a closed fist. The sound of Jeonghan moaning sends shivers down Seungcheol’s whole body, making him heady with lust as Jeonghan’s head is thrown back and reveals that tantalizing neck to him.

“More, Seungcheol. Faster,” he begs as his fingers wrap around his wrist with just the slightest pressure to encourage Seungcheol to keep going. His hips start rutting into Seungcheol’s fist unconsciously. “A-ah, so good,” Jeonghan babbles, “Your hand .... feels so good.”

So talkative today, Seungcheol notices.

Some part of Jeonghan’s thigh or hip bumps into Seungcheol’s strained erection, and he hisses at the feeling. Seungcheol is stuck between thrusting up or shifting to avoid the delicious sensation. But it doesn’t matter because Jeonghan only squishes himself closer into Seungcheol’s lap, and Seungcheol has no choice but to surrender to this torture pressing against his cock. He can only resort to swiveling his hips and thrusting up to Jeonghan’s rhythm.

Jeonghan’s head dips forward, fingers on his wrist dipping hard enough to feel harsh now. The skin on his eyelids wrinkle from how hard he’s squeezing his eyes shut, completely using his senses to only feel Seungcheol’s touch.

“Mm .....mn! S-Seungcheol,” Jeonghan breathes out his name.

Seungcheol twists his wrist up in a sharp motion that has Jeonghan choking on a gasp. Seungcheol continues with the rough angle that should spark Jeonghan’s loudest moans.

_Let. Go._

He babbles out more words about how _good_ Seungcheol makes him feel. But it’s a bit contrived because Jeonghan keeps hushing his moans down his throat. Seungcheol knows Jeonghan is more vocal than this, but right now, Jeonghan reigns himself in, seeming to be conscious of his every action.

“I-I want...” he stutters.

Jeonghan shifts his weight, bracing himself with an arm around Seungcheol’s neck to lift himself up from Seungcheol’s lap ever so slightly. Seungcheol is momentarily confused until his hand is being pulled deeper, past Jeonghan’s length and brushing against his perineum. Jeonghan’s breath trembles when he leads Seungcheol’s fingers to press against something puckered, throbbing, and hot.

_Jeonghan’s ..._

Seungcheol’s brain short-circuits and he’s devastatingly aware of how hot and _dry_ Jeonghan is there. “Jeonghan, wait. I don’t have anything on me.”

Jeonghan replies in a moan, fingers still interlaced with Seungcheol, engaged in a small tug-of-war inside his pants. “What do you mean?” He asks with half of his consciousness present.

“I mean _lube_. I don’t have any in the car. Or condoms either, in fact.” Seungcheol has to pull his hand out of Jeonghan’s underwear to make his point.

Then Jeonghan blinks and blinks a part of him into attention. Once again, that part of him, indignant and defensive, appears to Seungcheol. Jeonghan pulls down each end of his open button down with unnecessary force over his thighs, almost like a cover up for his embarrassment.

“You can just— put it in,” Jeonghan replies with such casual indifference that it raises the hairs on Seungcheol’s body.

“What?” Seungcheol asks dumbly.

"Raw, Seungcheol. Fuck me raw. God, it’s not my first time. I'm not an amateur.” Jeonghan scoffs like he’s been offended, even though Seungcheol has not provoked him at all. As if wanting to prove his point, Jeonghan ruts down against his stomach, pushing his ass against Seungcheol's crotch, relentlessly stubborn.

But alarm bells ring in Seungcheol’s ears and he feels a little disoriented.

“I'm not gonna fuck you raw,” Seungcheol says perplexed. “What?” he asks again.

Jeonghan stares him straight in the eyes, putting on that little confused tilt and heavy pout, “I'm clean. Why not?”

“W-well, I'm clean too. But I—I don’t fuck raw. I don’t fuck anybody raw. _You_ shouldn’t be fucked raw.” Seungcheol is honestly dumbfounded and rambling. “What do you mean it’s not your first time? Amateur? Wha—doing it without prep _hurts_ , Jeonghan.”

As much as he wants to touch Jeonghan, to be inside him sheathed to the hilt in heat, he’s not that desperate to jump in with saliva and precum only. Seungcheol hasn’t touched Jeonghan like that ever, hasn’t touched Jeonghan without a condom, without lube, or more than _this_ past the first time, and Seungcheol isn’t about to start this habit of them fucking without prep.

“I can take it,” Jeonghan blurts with a childlike resistance. “I like it, I like—” he stumbles over his words a bit, flustered, “I like when it hurts.”

But something about Jeonghan’s insistency bothers him. His cheeks warm, round and pink, his fingers clenched and pressed in a light pressure onto Seungcheol’s stomach. Jeonghan averts his head in shame, but not towards Seungcheol like he’s opening up — no, he faces away from him. Like he’s putting distance between Seungcheol and him this way.

And then Jeonghan adds as if it’s some comfort, “I'm used to it. It’s okay.”

Seungcheol chokes to Jeonghan’s reply and either that spoonful of alcohol got him drunk or the world is literally spinning.

" _Used to it?_ ” Seungcheol parrots in his delirium.

“I-I'm good at it. Jaehyun never prepped me. We only did it raw. It’s—it feels better that way.”

_Never prepped? Only raw? Who the hell is Jaehyun?_

Why would Jeonghan tell him that he’s _good at it?_ Seungcheol has so many questions, but Jeonghan is already raising his hips, tugging down his slacks, and Seungcheol becomes very aware and _sick_. Seungcheol plants both his hands onto Jeonghan’s hips and pulls him back down onto his lap.

“I _don’t_ like it when it hurts. I like it wet. Very wet. So I'm not gonna fuck you raw in my car.” Seungcheol can see Jeonghan opening his mouth in protest, but he completely shuts it down firmly. “ _No._ ”

Then, it’s as if someone flipped a switch and Jeonghan begins to panic.

“Wait, we haven’t even tried—”

He pulls against Seungcheol’s hold tethering him onto his lap. His arms collide roughly with Seungcheol’s into the panic. Seungcheol tries to reach out for him, to catch him.

“I can prep myself without lube. I can do it—”

Seungcheol watches as Jeonghan shoves his hand into his boxers, and his body instantly reacts to Jeonghan’s panic with a need to stop, soothe, hush.

“Jeonghan—” Seungcheol yanks Jeonghan’s hand out by the wrist, trying to fight the male in his lap by intertwining their fingers and pulling Jeonghan into his chest. “Jeonghan, it’s okay, shh, it’s okay. You don’t need to do anything.” He places a hand onto Jeonghan’s back, rubbing down in a soothing motion.

Jeonghan quiets down to a soft panting, shivering with every stroke of Seungcheol’s thumb against his shoulderblade. Jeonghan’s arms wrap around the back of Seungcheol’s neck. “Don’t go, don’t stop, Seungcheol. I’ll be good,” he pants. And to show this, Jeonghan forces himself closer, digging his ass against Seungcheol’s very prominent hard on.

“I’m not going, Hanie. Not going anywhere. I’ll take care of you.”

It’s a strange place to be in. Where Jeonghan still has his shirt unbuttoned, chest exposed and zipper open while Seungcheol wraps his bare arms around him, upper torso stripped naked completely. Seungcheol wants to cover Jeonghan back up, envelop him, hug him.

Seungcheol isn’t use to this compliant side of him. Jeonghan is one who acts coy and flutters his eyelashes, who teases by ghosting touches on his skin and must be painstakingly unraveled to get him compliant — Jeonghan who likes to drown Seungcheol in a slow and suffocating sexual tension. This isn’t him.

The Jeonghan right now is delicate, but not the way Seungcheol likes. He's delicate like one word would break him with pain and not pleasure. He grits with hard-headedness because of fear and because of the cat-and-mouse game Jeonghan likes to play so much. All Seungcheol is aware of is Jeonghan’s act in sequence, like his instinct was to react immediately with appeasing Seungcheol by whatever means. Jeonghan remains biting at his lip, palming at Seungcheol’s erection, and his eyes burn of determination.

So he placates Jeonghan for now.

_He’s not Jaehyun. He’s Choi Seungcheol._

“Hey,” Seungcheol nips on his Jeonghan’s ear, willing his voice a molten hot and low, “When I prep you properly, I'm gonna fill you up thick and heavy with my cock, stuff you up with lube all _wet and loud_.”

And when Jeonghan whines, Seungcheol shushes him quickly, “I can’t make it hurt like that, but you’ll hear how hard I'll drive into your ass, fuck you rough and fast.” He guides Jeonghan’s hips to swivel down on his cock straining up in his slacks and to his delight, Jeonghan’s breath hitches.

“Gonna fuck all that lube out of you, and then I'll fill you up with my cum,” Seungcheol growls, thrusting up with his words, "would you like that?”

Jeonghan muffles a dry sob, eyes squeezed shut and bites harshly on his lip. His face turns into a blossoming rose and Seungcheol’s heart is finally squeezing, beating out of something besides apprehension and fear.

“Want you, Cheol-ah,” Jeonghan whines, fingers fumbling on Seungcheol’s belt and his zipper, “You inside me.”

Seungcheol shushes him, interlaces their fingers together to pull Jeonghan’s hand away. He wraps one arm around Jeonghan’s waist and brings their bodies together.

Jeonghan is burning up everywhere Seungcheol touches. Seungcheol pets him softly, dips his hand past Jeonghan’s open shirt and thumbs on his nipple, a pretty shade of rosy brown. Seungcheol presses his lips against Jeonghan’s shoulder, all milky smooth skin left for him to mark. Jeonghan’s whole body quakes when he’s trailing his fingers across Jeonghan’s chest, brushing, pulling and teasing Jeonghan’s nipples.

 _He’s so sensitive._ Seungcheol likes this much better, where Jeonghan is softer, opens up gentler under his fingertips, unlike earlier, all rough and strained when forcefully guiding Seungcheol towards all of his delicate places. Seungcheol could spend all night just staring and teasing the angel on his lap.

Seungcheol spends the next few minutes pressing bruising kisses onto Jeonghan’s shoulder, collarbone, down his chest, and anywhere he can mark to placate and soothe Jeonghan.

 

Of course, when something is finally going right, everything has to go wrong.

There’s something that catches his eye for a second, a mistake, just a shadow, he tells himself. But through the windshield is a nightmare coming true. Parked across from them, in a beat up car is a capped man with a professional camera.

“Don’t. Move.” Seungcheol warns against Jeonghan’s ear, dark and low. He has his head tilted inwards, hiding part of his face behind Jeonghan, cheeks pressed together. Jeonghan makes a noise of complaint.

He mouths down Jeonghan’s neck, hissing his words between his teeth. “There’s paparazzi taking photos from a car in front of us— _don’t move_.”

“What do you mean—” Jeonghan twists his body, almost revealing himself if Seungcheol hadn’t grabbed his neck and forced him down again.

“ _Jeonghan_ , I'm fucking serious. Stop moving unless you want your career and your social life going down the drain.”

His words come out harsh and gritty, growled from the back of his throat. Seungcheol sounds dangerous to his own ears, but he can’t spare kindness in a situation like this. He can’t be found out.

Jeonghan finally freezes, breathing heavily against his neck. He goes awfully silent as dread from both Seungcheol and Jeonghan permeate the air. Seungcheol feels like he’s suffocating from his own panic. The male in his lap has become completely frozen, as if he could disappear if he held still enough.

“Jeonghan?”

“If my mom sees—” Jeonghan begins but chokes on his words, laced with distress and fear, “she’ll kill me,” he whispers.

The way Jeonghan sounds, terrified and _final_ , rattles something in him. Like Jeonghan actually believes he could take just as bad as a fall as Seungcheol could. He doubted before, a few weeks ago, maybe he would have never believed Jeonghan had much to lose. Jeonghan would never let his pride stoop low out of sheer spite. But now, for a second, Seungcheol can picture it— picture the horror in the eyes of Jeonghan, glassy and blank across the ballroom, how he bowed his head to his mother and resembled a small child. In the shadow of the person who created Yoon Jeonghan, certainly there is much to be feared.

“I don’t think they’ve seen your face yet. You probably seem like another girl to them.” Seungcheol tries to twist his tone humorously, but it all comes out strangled and strange in his ears.

But he can see how easily his own life could come spiraling down if he doesn’t handle the situation exactly right. Seungcheol bare naked being seen extremely intimate with a person, one thin shirt hanging onto their figure, sat in his lap. And if he’s seen with another male, hooking up with a _Yoon_ , only god can imagine what his dad will do with his future, his inheritance, his career, the rest of his life. All the things Seungcheol has tried to reign control of for the past four years. He’ll slip further from the edge and his image, the perfect son, smudged.

Jeonghan is trembling in his arms.

“I'll take care of it,” Seungcheol says, resolute.

Then, Seungcheol moves strategically. His arm reaches to pull Jeonghan’s blazer from the passenger side, draping it back onto Jeonghan’s shoulders. Swiftly, he pulls the driver seat in, squishing Jeonghan between him and the steering wheel. Following is a tinkle of keys and the low hum of an engine.

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan hissed loudly with one hand grabbing onto his bicep for his life. “You’re going to drive while I'm on your lap!?”

“Just hold on,” Seungcheol mutters, determination burning as he grasps the clutch and steering wheel.

“This is psychotic—” Jeonghan chokes out, strained and high pitched.

But Seungcheol ignores him because a second later, he’s pushing the gear to drive and is screeching out of the parking spot.

“Keep your head down,” Seungcheol warns.

And Jeonghan wraps his arms around the back of Seungcheol’s neck to brace for the impact. He’s jostled in this tight place, holding Seungcheol in a death grip. His eyes can barely keep up with the buildings they’re zooming past. The world becomes a raging blur across his face and his heartbeat seems to match the speed they’re going at.

The tell tale beat-up mobile is tailing him two cars behind, so Seungcheol swerves into the far right lane abruptly. And at the deathly speed he’s going, he barely misses a car coming up behind him. The angry driver honks at him too late, because Seungcheol is already making a sharp turn into the next intersection. Neither Seungcheol nor Jeonghan are wearing seatbelts so Jeonghan just has to bury himself into Seungcheol’s makeshift embrace when they both careen to the side, veering into a bump when Seungcheol resumes on a straight path.

“Hey! Can’t you be more careful?” Jeonghan tries to yell but really, he’s just swallowing his words with how his heartbeat leaps up to his throat.

Seungcheol’s chest rumbles with his chuckles, glad for the momentary humor. The ride is exhilarating, even though adrenaline and paranoia run through his veins, his eyes constantly darting back at his mirrors. But something about how tightly pressed Jeonghan is up into him, the male having no room to move between Seungcheol’s chest, his arms, and the wheel in this cramped convertible, brings comfort to him.

Seungcheol is doing about forty beyond the speed limit. There’s no time for speed bumps or care, so he takes his chance and races over them anyway, pressing harder onto the gas pedal every single time. Jeonghan makes these sensual little noises of surprise, bouncing in his lap, and tightening his hold even more. If Seungcheol wasn’t so focused on the task of evading the paparazzi, he would definitely be paying more attention to what’s happening in his lap.

The paparazzi car is a left even further now as Seungcheol drives into a small neighborhood. One where the streetlights are far less common and the roads can only fit one car. His tires start rolling with cautiousness. He can hear the beat up engine nearby so he takes his chance when he spots an open space.

Seungcheol reverses into a small alley, not stopping until they reach the very end away from the street lights, presses on the brakes, and turns off the ignition so they’re shrouded in darkness.

They wait there with the only sound coming from their exhilarated breaths. Jeonghan’s heart is beating rapidly from where he is squished against Seungcheol’s chest. Seungcheol can faintly feel a slightly pressure against his abdomen. So when he tries to shift, Seungcheol accidentally puts more pressure against it causing Jeonghan to let out a soft moan.

Seungcheol can see the tips of Jeonghan’s ears reddening at the noise he made. “Are you ... _hard?_ Again?”

Embarrassed, Jeonghan tries to wiggle back but it only ends up with him pressing on the honk, scaring them both, and Seungcheol wrapping an arm on Jeonghan’s waist to bring him back pressing up against him.

“Stop moving. They’ll find us.”

That brings Jeonghan to still, but his erection still throbbing and hard to ignore. They try to sit in silence for a few minutes but the more time that goes by, the more antsy Jeonghan becomes. Jeonghan squirms occasionally, panting becoming more heavy into his neck the whole time. The hot breath against his skin only makes Seungcheol sweat. He grows more aware of the way Jeonghan’s weight shifts on his lap, each inch of Jeonghan’s plush thighs that sinks against his, the curve of his ass through those slacks, all sensations being sent straight south, pooling into his groin. Seungcheol knows Jeonghan can feel his hardness sitting in between where the curve of his ass ends meeting at the inside of his thigh.

Jeonghan gives a soft sigh. “Cheol,” Jeonghan whimpers, dropping his head to rest on his shoulder.

His erection is tented back into his underwear, zipper open. The head rubs up against Seungcheol’s still naked abdomen in small jerking motions as an attempt to relieve himself. Lewd whines escape Jeonghan’s mouth. Seungcheol can feel his self-control slowly slipping away.

“Cheol,” he pants in the softest voice.

Jeonghan calls his name again, short, sweet, and needy, and Seungcheol is a goner.

“Shh, I'll take care of you, Hanie.”

Seungcheol pushes his seat back, but with less space than before so Jeonghan remains trapped in his arms. He reaches one hand down to fist Jeonghan’s cock. It throbs angrily in his palm.

Seungcheol keeps his gaze on the alley in case anyone drives past.

Jeonghan is wet and making his hand sticky with all the precum that dribbled down his length. Seungcheol presses his thumb into the slit causing Jeonghan to buck up into his fist.

“You’re so dirty, angel. What’s got you all wet like this?”

“Couldn’t help it,” Jeonghan mutters. He’s pushing his ass down on Seungcheol’s straining erection, brushing it alongside his thigh. “You were going so fast and there were so many bumps a-and I was right on top— _ah_ —your cock.”

Seungcheol tenses every time Jeonghan bucks up then down, the slight pressure putting friction on his cock. He can feel everything through Jeonghan’s pants. The jiggling of his ass, the way they separate slightly when he rubs down to get pressure against his hole, the sweat that’s dampening through Jeonghan’s boxers and forming a giant wet patch on the bottom of his slacks.

“Y-your thighs, god, Seungcheol-ah,” Jeonghan moans wantonly, chasing his pleasure squeezing Seungcheol’s thigh in between his legs.

“ _Fuck_ , ride me, Hanie,” Seungcheol hisses through gritted teeth. As one of his hands pump Jeonghan’s cock, the other presses on the small of Jeonghan’s back to provide support each time Jeonghan rolls his ass back down, “Just like that, angel. God, you’re perfect.”

Jeonghan seems to like this especially, releasing a whimper and spurts out more precome.

Heatedly, Jeonghan finally ends his torture and takes him out of his boxers, instantly rolling and twisting his palm around the head. Seungcheol thinks he might actually bite his tongue off or something similar. Because he can’t remember the last time someone has made his body burn like this from just a touch on his cock. But Jeonghan drives him completely wild, has him tensing and groaning from the back of his throat. He has to wonder how Jeonghan got so good at this— giving handjobs like he’s an expert at it.

But it doesn’t seem like Jeonghan is even focusing on technique, like it’s automatic for him. Because Jeonghan is far gone with his muffled moans and undulating hips.

When Seungcheol glances over at his shoulder, Jeonghan is biting on his lower lip, swelling it in an angry shade of red. Jeonghan does his best to muffle his sounds like Seungcheol does the same, even though all Seungcheol wants to do is hear the melody of his moans. He looks far too enticing and god, Seungcheol wants so much to kiss him.

Instead, he has to turn to releasing his tension on Jeonghan’s skin. Numerous bruises are made, little indents of his teeth occasionally breaking the skin, and each time Jeonghan makes this shocked noise from the back of his throat. A high, sharp squeak that ends in an airy sigh of pleasure.

When Seungcheol gets his tongue on Jeonghan’s nipples, all the muscles in Jeonghan’s body seem to stop working. He collapses against Seungcheol’s body in a series of gasps, especially affected when Seungcheol flicks his tongue around the nub. Jeonghan’s hips stutter once, twice, then he’s coming with a thick heat that drips down Seungcheol’s knuckles.

His immediate thought isn’t to stop though, it’s to keep going. So Seungcheol circles the head of Jeonghan’s cock with his palm, rubbing down harshly, and gathers Jeonghan’s cum frothing in between his fingers to aid him in jerking up and down his length. Seungcheol wants to know just how far he can stretch Jeonghan’s limit.

Jeonghan protests anyway, squirming his hips away, “No, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol just hums, bringing Jeonghan back into his arms with a hand on his back. “Gonna make you come again, Hanie.”

Jeonghan places a hand flat on Seungcheol’s stomach but doesn’t push him away, only digging his nails into his skin. “N-no,” he whines, soft but compliant. His other preoccupied hand slows into a lazy, distracted rhythm. Jeonghan’s nail catches onto his foreskin, pulling it down slightly and eliciting a long winded groan from him.

The car is filled with the vulgar sounds of squelching as Seungcheol uses Jeonghan’s cum as a lubricant to make the slide smoother. He tightens his fingers into a circle around Jeonghan’s cock and stills his arm to focus on power his speed into his wrists. Jeonghan is now reduced to hiccups and dragged out cries from his throat as his hips squirm back and forth, not knowing whether he wants to chase Seungcheol’s fingers or to avoid them.

“I-I don’t think I can... nymore, Cheol.... ah, _please_ ,” Jeonghan begs, legs quivering.

He’s trembling all over and Seungcheol can’t get enough of knowing that _he_ did this to Jeonghan. To make Jeonghan conflicted, want what he doesn’t, make him _beg_ and _cry_.

“Just a little more. Let’s come together, Hanie.”

Seungcheol presses them together, chest to chest, cocks rubbing together in a tortuous friction. He wraps his hand around Jeonghan’s to guide them around both their cocks. It’s so dirty and so indulgent as Seungcheol’s thicker, cum-stained fingers to slip between Jeonghan’s thinner, nails clean-cut ones.

“Please... please, Seungcheol. _Hurry_ ,” Jeonghan cries.

He’s tightening his grip around them in desperation and Seungcheol only groans at the feeling. The temperature in his stomach boils, and he feels it pulling and pulling tauter and tauter.

Seungcheol aligns his mouth somewhere near Jeonghan’s ear sloppily and slurs out, “Come for me, Hanie.”

Just like that, Jeonghan lets go, body shaking, hips stuttering, white spurting over while his mouth drops open in a thin, stretched out squeal squeezing out from the back of his throat. Seungcheol follows closely behind, not withholding a guttural groan that vibrates through his chest as he dirties their hands and Jeonghan’s black slacks even more.

“Fu-fuck,” Seungcheol hisses out in a repetitive nonsense, “Jeonghan, Jeonghan, _fuck_.”

His hips keep thrusting into his own unrelenting palms around their cocks until he rides out the strong orgasm. Even then, when his mind is blurry, somewhere in a higher plane, Seungcheol gives the last final pumps around both of them, messy, slow, and high all used up. Jeonghan seems to have had enough, for real this time, and swats at Seungcheol’s wrist with the last of his energy worth mustering up. Seungcheol relinquishes his hold on the pleasure, extended to the most he could make of it. Instead, he trails his cum-sticky hand along Jeonghan’s sides, his back, up his spine, caressing along Jeonghan’s skin in his daze.

He can hear Jeonghan’s shallow breathing, distracted as if his mind was churning loudly.

“I don’t remember that.” Jeonghan finally says, mouth smushed into his chest.

“What?” Seungcheol huffs out.

“Saying my— saying names when you come.”

“Oh.” Seungcheol swallows, mind slowly winding back up. He thinks back to the nightclub, the couch, yet again. “Thought you said you were drunk that night. How would you even remember?”

“I remember,” Jeonghan shoots down his assumption rather quickly. Seungcheol glances towards him but Jeonghan is quick to avert his eyes, “...that night— it was—”

Seungcheol can’t see Jeonghan’s face right now with his face buried into Seungcheol’s chest, refusing to look at him. But he wonders what kind of facial expression Jeonghan is making. How he looks like when he’s struggling, hesitating, maybe even shy to Seungcheol’s hopes. He has yet to see that expression again, the reason why Jeonghan let himself go the first time. And why Seungcheol was so drawn to him, for the first time.

“It’s not something I can just forget,” Jeonghan says. It’s simple but raw with a truth Seungcheol can’t figure out.

There’s still so much to unravel about Jeonghan. Questions that come up every time Jeonghan says or does something out of character. But Seungcheol doesn’t have that right nor the position to be asking such questions. He’s Choi Seungcheol, heir to C Group, and Yoon Jeonghan is a child of Yoon Media Holdings, the rival family. He just doesn’t have the luxury of _wanting_ things like that, at least, not Jeonghan.

So Seungcheol doesn’t carry the conversation. Just lets them sit in the aftermath of their intimacy and passion as they hold each other in that small, closed off space.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


_Jeonghan looks good on his lap. Slender. A perfect contrast to Seungcheol’s frame. Has his hand always held Jeonghan so gently?_

Granted, those aren’t the thoughts he should have when presented pictures of Jeonghan and his little adventure in his car last night are thrown all around a little ugly mustard envelope. Especially when he’s in his father’s office receiving a reprimanding. You can only see Seungcheol’s blurry face, his naked torso, and Jeonghan’s hair draping all over his back, concealing his identity.

 _He’s so fucked_.

“Do you know how much your little escapade cost me?”

“An amount that wouldn’t even make a scratch onto your fortune, father,” Seungcheol retorts, rather spiteful more towards himself for getting caught than anything.

“Luckily the journalist isn’t affiliated with any news organization, so we could pay him off with a generous amount enough to last him a lifetime for him and his whole extended family. Granted he sign an NDA with our lawyers.”

His father scolds him in that disappointed tone, a little condescending, know-it-all man exasperated at his child’s schemes.

He then sighs deeply, “When will you realize your position, Seungcheol? You’re going to inherit C Group. You’ve got to start taking your future more seriously.”

“I am,” Seungcheol grits out, a bit too forceful.

Choi Hyunseung is the CEO under a long line of family heirs to come into power to C Group, but despite this, to some miracle unseen in the Gangnam area, his father has always looked kindly on his children. So when his father furrows his eyebrows worriedly at his tone, the child in Seungcheol curls himself in.

Seungcheol takes a few breaths to calm down. “It’s why I'm back in Korea, isn’t it? It’s why I'm dodging questions about why I'm not pursuing grad school at Stanford and finishing my MBA at SNU.”

His father becomes tight-lipped, his muscles tensing just like when he’s forced to undersell in a contract. “I just want the best for you,” he states like it smooths things over.

“I know.”

This doesn’t appease his father much. But Seungcheol has no intention of letting his father win in this argument — not when his father had known about what he was doing in America, the opportunity, the chance that his father took away from him.

Seungcheol tries to stand his ground, “I just wish for some things that I can own. Call mine. Okay? At least let me make my own decisions in my love life.”

He doesn’t know what to start addressing. The fact that he wants his parents to _leave him alone_ , or to start covering his ass by faking confidence and bluffing the hell off.

“Just don’t go sleeping around, Seungcheol. Or at least don’t get caught by trash paparazzi like these.”

“We’re not sleeping ar—” Seungcheol cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh. It doesn’t matter what he says to his father. He just isn’t the type to relent. At least, not when it comes to dangerous influences on his future.

“Find yourself a good girl, Seungcheol. There are plenty out there. Should I ask your mother to introduce you to some?”

“No!” Seungcheol whips his head up. “You don’t even know hi—them. It’s not even close to what you think it is.” Even though if you asked anybody around, or Seungcheol a few months ago, he would’ve never thought to protect Jeonghan’s dignity before. “Anyways, I don’t need someone like that right now.”

His father stares at him for a long while, like he is contemplating and searching for the reason behind Seungcheol’s sudden response to his seemingly innocent suggestion for blind dates. Seungcheol can only shuffle his feet a bit in front of his father’s stare down.

“Alright then. Go on and return to work,” his father dismisses him with a wave.

Seungcheol’s shoulders loosen and he bows briefly for his exit. He pauses at the door, hesitating before turning around to speak again. “Thank you, dad. I'm sorry.”

His father, who had already started busying himself, looks up from his papers with surprise, but then his face dissolves into a crumpled, adoring expression that only parents could look at their children with. “Everything’s okay, Seungcheol.”

 _He’s got so many wrinkles now_ , Seungcheol realizes.

It’s these moments that make Seungcheol unable to regret the life he was born into. His parents adore him, but with the burden of carrying a legacy as big as C Group, some sacrifices must be made. Seungcheol sometimes forgets that his burdens are also his parents’ burdens.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **subscribe / kudo / comment ♡**  
>  if you have questions or suggestions, feel free to dm or ask me here:  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/214YOONS) / [twt](https://twitter.com/214YOONS) @ 214YOONS ♡
> 
> yall thought the angst ends at just family?? well here's some past relationship angst too !!
> 
> sorry for taking so long !! i'm undergoing severe stress at as a graduating college senior looking for internships :/
> 
> but i have an outline - one chapter doesn't have smut(?) the rest does i'll check - there's also going to be less social media bc that takes a long time to code but it'll still be there just sometimes ! 
> 
> also i updated the tags, heh, so look out  
> thanks for sticking with me with no update this past month ! i won't leave you guys hanging okay ~


	6. GREED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **greed.** _noun._ \ ˈgrēd \  
>  1 intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth, power, or food.  
> 2 excessive desire to acquire or possess more (especially more material wealth) than one needs or deserves  
>  _synonyms:_ materialism, glutton, ravenous, consumerism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so you're gonna want to sit down for this one bc it's 16k worth of ~fresh~ content . hot and ready ,, pls enjoy

There’s an annoying ringing that’s slowly pounding into the back of Jeonghan’s head. A chill runs down his back that makes him burrow himself into the bed, curling into a ball. The heat that usually wraps around Jeonghan is gone. In its place is the lingering warmth that’s leftover on the sheets. He hears the chime of the door signaling it’s been opened. Through Jeonghan’s groggy eyes, signals pop in concern that someone he hasn’t invited is coming in.

But what greets him is not his room. It’s Seungcheol’s. First, he’s assured by the thought that he’s safe. He’s somewhere he can feel warm bed sheets radiating onto his body. But second, he panics, as is routine. Jeonghan berates himself for getting comfortable in a bed that’s not his. _He’s not wanted_.

Jeonghan jerks up from the blankets and reaches for his discarded jeans to fish his phone out. 1am. So they haven’t slept for long. Jeonghan succumbs to sinking back into the sheets, stuck between missing the warmth and making plans to leave when Seungcheol falls back to sleep. It’s a pathetic thing to want, he thinks.

Stumbling footsteps sound out from somewhere outside, distant and clumsy.

“Hansol!” Seungcheol’s voice whispering urgently, “What are you doing?”

“Hyuuuung,” Jeonghan hears Hansol’s voice call out, a slurred mess of affection. “Your apartment was the closest, so I came to my favorite cousin!”

Oh no.

His surroundings are shrouded in darkness, but it seems even more black than usual nights as Jeonghan squints into the hallway. He can make out the staggering smaller figure of Hansol coming into view in the hallway. Jeonghan can hear his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears as Hansol nears. He advances less like a messy, drunk college kid and more like a monster. The kinds that Jeonghan knows are lurking in the dark, waiting, biding its time to jump on an innocent little child.

“Ugh, Hyung.”

Jeonghan watches in frozen terror at every step Hansol’s shadowy figure takes, each one more closer to the bedroom. He has sunk himself deep into the sheets, eyes peering over the blankets.

“I need sleep. And water. H2O, Hyung, you know?”

Any moment now. Any moment Hansol could just come in and discover them.

Jeonghan in Seungcheol’s bed. What have you two been doing? Seungcheol’s panicked face. Denial, he imagines, would flood from his mouth.

An image he’s reimagined too many times to count over the period of this month alone.

But Seungcheol is fast behind Hansol’s footsteps, taking long strides with both arms outstretched to support the drunken boy.

“Hansol, the guest bedroom is on the left. Be _careful_.”

Jeonghan’s eyes watch Seungcheol’s hands steer Hansol upright. He’s gentle while rushed, not at all like how he would grip at Jeonghan while scrambling to hide their secrets. Jeonghan winces, not noticing his teeth bit down on his misplaced tongue. The metallic taste floods his mouth.

A ringtone shatters the mostly silent apartment and scares the life out of him. Jeonghan whips his head down at his lit-up phone in his hand with alarm, frantically rejecting the call without thinking.

 **baby**  
Missed Call

“Oh, Hyunngg,” Hansol sings, “Who’s that you got in there?”

He’s sticking his head out to catch the sight of Jeonghan, half hidden in the darkness, bare shoulders and long blonde hair shielding him. Jeonghan’s heart jumps into his throat, unable to turn his eyes away. But Seungcheol’s broad figure immediately blocks him from the entrance, grabbing the doorknob and closing the gap from Hansol’s vision.

Jeonghan clenches his fists into the blankets, his body is completely stiff even though Hansol could no longer see him. His blood is still rushing in his ears and his whole body is burning under the covers. Jeonghan sits on the chilled sheets, so desperate, as he sent out a million prayers to anyone that would listen, hoping that they haven’t been  _ruined_.

Jeonghan stares at the gap in the door. It feels strangely like he’s eavesdropping. He hears Seungcheol’s voice just barely — denying. “It’s no one, Hansol.”

“Hyuung,” Hansol’s voice is giddy at something to tease Seungcheol for, “You brought a girl into your apartment!” An exaggerated gasp. “You slept with her!”

Jeonghan swallows, eyes adjusting to the darkness, yet he wishes more than anything to be blind or to be deaf. _Make it stop._

 _“Hansol,”_  Seungcheol groans with exasperation, “It’s a random girl, ok? Just go to bed. I’ll bring you some water.”

_it’s just a random girl it’s just a random girl it’s just a_

“She’s blonde! I saw her! Oh god uncle won’t like you doing this you know what he said he—” Hansol continues in a senseless ramble, voice becoming fainter by the second.

“Alright, Chwe Hansol. Since when did you learn to drink this much?” Seungcheol chides and shuts Jeonghan out from their conversation like he shuts the door, abruptly and echoing with a lingering sense of dread.

Jeonghan sits in the silence of Seungcheol’s bedroom. In the quiet, reality is much louder. His thoughts are much louder.  _It’s a random girl_ , Seungcheol had said. Jeonghan has always thought that he knew what to expect from Seungcheol, therefore he wouldn’t be hurt. But reality is different from thoughts. Words can only take you so far until you face reality in action. Still, Jeonghan has no choice but to keep fooling himself.

Jeonghan looks back at the notifications lighting up his phone.

baby

**Chan**

— hyung, where are you?

— i'm outside your apartment

— hyung, i'm in trouble

— when are you gonna come home?

 _Chan_. Why would he be calling at 1AM?

Jeonghan scrambles to get dressed. He needs to get out of here. Not only because he shouldn’t be here, but because he has more important people he should focus on. The ones that will actually stay — like Chan. Chan who is alone and needing an older person to lean on. But Seungcheol knows he’s awake and that he stayed over. Jeonghan feels so uncomfortable in his body, wishing to squeeze out of it and to wish his spirit away anywhere but here. But of course, he fell for it again. No matter how many times Jeonghan tells himself not to, Seungcheol has a way of making him say yes.

The door to the bedroom creaks open with an awkward squawk as Jeonghan gets his final piece of clothing on, zipping up his jeans. Seungcheol watches him, standing awkwardly like a stranger in front of his own bedroom.

“You don’t have to go.”

Jeonghan doesn’t want to look at him right now, to see the lost and helpless expression on Seungcheol’s face. He knows that he will have to look into that face and let it break him as he will, inevitably, leave.

In a stroke of timed fortune, Jeonghan’s phone rings and they both look at Chan’s face flashing on the screen — “ _Baby_ ” was what Jeonghan had entered as his contact name.

Jeonghan’s eyes dart up instinctively as they meet Seungcheol’s, beautiful and wide when they look up at him. As always, he manages to tug on Jeonghan’s heart in the saddest ways. They beg him not to take the call. But it's his first instinct to bring the arm up. Something about the action is gratifying in a sadistic way. The more desperate Seungcheol looks, the more Jeonghan wants to make him hurt. The more you make them hurt, the more they keep their eyes on you. _Only you_. It is the only way Jeonghan knows.

With his phone in his clutches, he answers, “Chan-ah, what’s wrong?”

Chan’s voice comes out loud and frantic,  _“Hyung! My dad just found out that I applied for a dance major. I don’t even know how he.....”_ But whatever he says continues to zone into the background, because how Seungcheol makes him feel washes everything else away.

His stomach twists, seeing the usual bright complexion transform into a dim, dullness on Seungcheol’s face —  _sick_. This way, Jeonghan won’t win, but at least he can’t lose.

_“...saying he’s so disappointed and how he expects better. “You’re my son. You can’t waste your life away....”_

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol half mouths half-whispers, striding towards him to place one hand on the arm holding his phone. He’s asking Jeonghan to hang up. Jeonghan should gloat, soak up his success, yet he feels the frustration well up inside him.

_“...so much was sacrificed for me and how he built his career up, then he mentioned mom, my mom...”_

Jeonghan shrugs out of Seungcheol’s hold easily, too easily that it’s sad. _He can’t even hold onto you, Jeonghan. He doesn’t want to hold onto you. It’s just play for him._

_“...like the man you’ve always said, hyung! He just doesn’t understand me, and you’ve always been...”_

Seungcheol clutches his empty fist in the air and his arm drops, limp against his side. Jeonghan watches him, not understanding. Seungcheol has no right to look so hurt.

_“...if I am your father and you live in my house,” so I packed my stuff and left.”_

Who was the player and who was being played?

Jeonghan’s brain catches up to him as he runs through Chan’s voice over the phone. “Okay, Chan,” he says quietly. “I’ll be there.”

He ends the call with a click of the end button, sounding like the gavel on his decision as the pair of not-lovers face each other. A part of him worries about Chan, just a teenager doing god knows what and where — because that is what he used to do — and another part says to use this at his advantage.

Seungcheol keeps this persistent stare on him, as if he could act as an eraser of all the bad things that have ever happened to him. He’s reminded of the look Seungcheol shared with his mother that day at Hansol’s house. The gentle softness of her gaze, worry smothered around Seungcheol like a downy blanket. And he tries to recall a moment when his mother’s worry has ever looked like that, if it has ever been anything but clearly pronounced words that held his body still on the floor, on his knees.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, they say.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol calls gently like coaxing a child. “You don’t have to go,” repeating the same thing again.

It’s useless.

Jeonghan manages to keep his face from completely crumbling. “I have to,” he replies daftly.

Because Jeonghan never stays the night. He comes to Seungcheol, blood filled with vodka and in need of a distraction. But Seungcheol accepts this, accepts that Jeonghan hasn’t let Seungcheol touch him like he wants to since that time he lost control of his emotions in the car. And that when Jeonghan comes over, they’ll fuck the way Jeonghan wants to, they’ll fall asleep together, and Seungcheol will wake up to an empty bed. They’ve done it before, so why?

Why now, Seungcheol?

_Why are you holding onto me like you want me to stay?_

Jeonghan steps around him, tone of indifference in passing, “Chan needs me.”

Excuses.

Seungcheol grabs onto his arm, enough force to make him stumble back. “What is it? What’s so important that you would go when Chan, a  _nobody_ , calls at this hour?”

Jeonghan has to blink the surprise away in his eyes. It is unlike Seungcheol to make such a mean suggestion — words that suit him more instead. Seungcheol almost sounds _jealous_. But Jeonghan is convinced that it may just be his wayward heart. 

 _And Chan._ Seungcheol wouldn’t know. It’s the way the Yoon family has kept it.

“Chan is important, Seungcheol.” It seems less of a power move because he says this so sincerely, more sincerely than he has been when mentioning anyone else. Chan is outside his apartment, coming to him with his teenage concerns as big as the world. Like Aejeong. Like he was once. “A person like you couldn’t possibly understand us.”

And this is the line that Seungcheol can’t cross. You and me. Choi and Yoon. There are secrets that will die with Jeonghan, solely because Seungcheol is his enemy.

Roulette is the result of a game made by ruthless and cunning players. Only people like Joshua and Junhui, birds of a feather, could understand. They’re not like Seungcheol, not like Hansol, swaddled with care from birth, not like Wonwoo or Jihoon, who pride in honesty and deflect social climbers. Chan and Aejeong are pawns on the Yoon chessboard, and Jeonghan is raising them so they can become players.

Seungcheol withdraws his hand. His eyes drift contemplatively downwards, making this crumpled expression Jeonghan can’t decipher.  “Do you really cherish him?” Seungcheol asks genuinely and small.

 _Cherish_. It’s a word foreign to him. Jeonghan doesn’t know if he’s able to cherish anything. He wasn’t taught to. Obsess, maybe. To possess.

Jeonghan doesn’t know why Seungcheol asks such a question. He has no right looking so hurt. Jeonghan thinks it’s probably because Seungcheol has never had something that wasn’t  _his_  genuinely. Chan must seem like he is in Seungcheol’s way of having Jeonghan completely, and he isn’t used to it. People fall at the feet of  _the king_  all the time. And they mean it. It’s the only thing Seungcheol has been used to, because a Choi is raised in kindness and from love. And no one doubts a Choi’s intentions.

But that’s not what Jeonghan is. Jeonghan is just another person who jumps from bed to bed, because that’s what everybody says he does. _They carved this image for Jeonghan_. And so he is. Seungcheol doesn’t want  _Jeonghan_ to hold. He’s just another distraction,  _a fun moment_  before Seungcheol moves onto prettier, more stable things.

So Jeonghan spits out half-truths and half-lies. “Chan is someone not even you can touch.”

Seungcheol’s face sparks with surprise and he almost looks....betrayed.

But it’s to Jeonghan’s own surprise that he’s saying this. To the rest of the world, Seungcheol could take Chan down with just a word. But in Jeonghan’s eyes, they’re almost equal in worth — it’s scary. Seungcheol has gained _too much_ , too many parts of him in his possession within a few months. He shouldn’t have the power to make Jeonghan sway over him like Chan does — who has the power to take down Kim Hyejeong with his existence alone. And yet Choi Seungcheol has become just that, a person who makes the white flag of Jeonghan’s heart waver.

Jeonghan leaves Seungcheol there and walks to the door without another comment.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Jeonghan. It’s important,” Seungcheol says from behind him, voice desperate yet firm.

Jeonghan turns partly to face him. Seungcheol is a broad man but he looks so small standing at the far end of the room, shrouded in the shadows even though the nightlights of Seoul shine so bright. It’s an image he’s well acquainted with. Jeonghan doesn’t want to stay another minute here, being reminded of his own lovelessness.

“You can ask me next time, Cheol-ah,” Jeonghan says softly like if his voice was any louder, it’d hurt the both of them.

He lets the door swing shut behind him. It’s a breath of relief as he hears the door chiming with the closing alarm. The image of Seungcheol standing like a lone boy in his living room is seared into his mind. Seungcheol looked like a mirror image of him — those days when he was so desperate for his mother to turn back, to  _look at me_.

Misery can be contagious.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


When Seungcheol was a little boy, he remembers having violin lessons with his mom.

_“It’s important to become cultured in every way. Math and science may stimulate the mind, but music and art can touch the heart,” Seungcheol’s mom would say._

She was a professional violinist before she married up into the Choi family. Then she put her career “on hold” but never regained it again. Seungcheol never liked the hours he had to put in, stuck in a ten by eleven room practicing the same notes over and over again. But at times, when he played a continuous string of bars just right, Seungcheol couldn’t help but feel like he did something, like the violin he played could  _move_ someone.

Then people grow older and society tells you cultivating the mind is more important than cultivating your heart. And one day, Seungcheol’s dad set aside his violin and told him it was time to move onto better things.

“You’re not still hung up on that. Are you, Seungcheol-ah?”

Seungcheol raises his eyes away from the rice sticking onto t-he side of his bowl. Having the same conversation about his days in America was such a pain in his back. “No, of course not, dad.” Then realizing how unappreciative he sounded, he adds, “It’s great to be home again.”

“Isn’t it?” His mother says, cheerily between them both, obviously trying to defuse the situation, “You’re so much more closer to your friends now. And SNU is a great university to do graduate studies. You’ll be more educated on how Koreans do management — and not the western way. It’s more applicable.”

“And you get to see us more often.” His dad adds.

“I know.”

His mom looks at him earnestly then, going so far as to put down her utensils. “Will you come back home?”

Seungcheol shut his eyes briefly, exhaling in preparation of the conversation they are to have  _again_. “No, mom.” And despite his bitterness, he still has room to feel bad. Because he knows his parents must think he’s being stubborn and unreasonable, which he is to a point. “I’m sorry,” he dips his head slightly.

“We really just wanted you to come home. Be more focused on what’s really here,” his dad interjects.

Seungcheol takes another deep breath, choosing to eye his half-eaten radish than stare at his dad’s face when his voice, the gust of  _I’m your parent and I know what’s right_  stamped all over his tone, is enough to make Seungcheol feel like shit.

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

Seungcheol’s chopsticks clang against the table when he looks up. “Dad, I’m here now.”

His dad’s eyebrows downturn at his utensils being thrown down like that. Seungcheol can hear the nagging tone already when his father was in lecturing mode. But he doesn’t comment on that. Instead, he comments, “We know seeing Jihoon flourish into a producer and make something of himself as a musician is inspiring. But that’s what he is meant to do. You have your own skills. We want to make sure you flourish in your own way.”

Seungcheol clears his throat, straightening his back in his chair. “That’s why I asked to be part of management at C95s. I could be really useful there.”

His dad hums, “I don’t know if you can handle that yet. Not until I see you’re serious about settling down here and won’t just run away to do something else.”

Seungcheol feels a vein on his temple might just pop right open. His throat swells with the need to scream. This was the most hypocritical thing he has ever heard. His dad expects for him to follow his footsteps but doesn’t let him advance even when he asks for it. And the thing is, his dad knows this the thing he wants most in the world right now. And his father is refusing out of spite.

But he bites back his words all the same. It wouldn’t benefit him to start swaying his dad’s opinion right now. “I already told you I’m not moving back home. I’m an adult. I need the space now, and I’m not trying to scheme you into letting me go into music. You should know micromanaging isn’t a good tactic.”

He notices his mom’s shoulders slump slightly, though she tries not to show her disappointment. Seungcheol curses in his head. He hates when she’s disheartened. The feeling of being a failure completely envelopes him.

His dad frowns, “We’re not trying to micromanage you.”

“We just want you to be happy, honey,” his mom nudges gently with her soft smile despite the disappointment earlier.

_But you wouldn’t be happy. You would be completely let down._

“And I wasn’t talking about moving back home. Though your mother certainly wants that,” and as an afterthought when his wife shoots him a dirty look, “I want that. No, I was talking about the unruly behavior you’ve been having lately. The sleeping around. The sneaking around.”

Seungcheol stills. “What?” he asks dumbly.

His father huffs, eyes piercing at him sternly like when he used to lie about sneaking candy from the jar on his desk — what his childish mind didn’t understand was just a decoration at the time.

“I mean you say you haven’t been sneaking around. You get caught by the paparazzi. Then I hear from Hansol that you’ve been seeing this blonde girl. The same one I assume you had a romp with in your car. And at a wedding of all places!”

“Wait, wait—” Seungcheol interrupts with rising panic, “Hansol told you what?”

“Your aunt actually,” his mom mentions. “Hansol should really learn to shut his door when having private conversations with Hangyeol. The boy has been caught too many times during their  _gossip sessions_.”

“Seungcheol, I understand you youths can be passionate. But really, you should be with people who make better decisions than this. Especially since you’re such a public figure. I don’t think you’ve been taking things seriously at all.” His dad shakes his head, putting the final nail on the coffin.

Seungcheol scrambles, thinking of that night when Hansol came in drunk and saw Jeonghan in his bed. “Wait, no. That’s not it.”

If he doesn’t answer with something smart, something  _now_ , this chance will pass Seungcheol by, and his life really will become a prison. “We were just —” Seungcheol’s hands shake underneath the table.

“She's my girlfriend,” he blurts in random. “And she’s a good person. Good for me. Connections,” he says dumbly.

_shit shit shit shit I'm never going to get out of this one_

His dad’s eyes perk at  _connections_. He leans forward onto the table, clasping his hands together like he is making a business deal. “Connections, you say?”

Seungcheol’s eyes dart between his parents, temple thumping in nervousness. “Yeah. Uh, that could really benefit our company. A-and I like her - a lot.” He winces because at this point, he doesn’t know what’s coming from his mouth.

His mom lights up considerably, leaning forward and happier than he’s seen in the duration of this whole dinner. “Really? We should really meet her, Seungcheollie.”

His dad turns to his mom, pausing in thought, and then nods after a moment. “And if she really is good for you — see that you’re not behaving erratically, I’ll consider you for a position at C95s. How about that?”

Seungcheol stammers, gulping under his dad’s inquisitive gaze. “Sure,” he agrees while trying not to squeak.

Fuck his life.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


“Hyung, I don’t understand this.”

Jeonghan sighs, “Can’t you ask Wonwoo for help? He’s done the coursework too.”

Seungkwan pouts from the couch, stomach down and cheek squished against a luxury 600 thread count pillowcase. “Hyung, you’re top of your class.”

“Why are you studying again? We’re here to take a break today. Not cry over your textbook on a luxury yacht. Look at Chan,” he points to the freshman who has been laying on the rug with a book over his head and dozing off. “At least he’s taking advantage of the lull of the sea.” Chan had actually given up on reviewing within ten minutes and chose to ‘take a break’.

Seungkwan pouts, “Some of us are dumb and really need to pass our final exams.”

That’s when Hansol buries his face into Seungkwan’s sweater, shivering. “Stop studying. Cuddle me.”

“You’re just sensitive, you big baby,” Seungkwan teases. But he turns to comfort his boyfriend anyway, combing a hand through Hansol’s hair. It’s such a soft gesture for Seungkwan who is nothing but loud and boisterous.

Jeonghan slowly exhales in long wispy puffs of his cigarette, as he observes the couple while sitting on the other couch. It’s scenic, almost like Jeonghan was looking into one of his dazy dreams, warm and fuzzy right before he wakes up with the sunlight in his eyes. His stomach twists in a strange way.

Behind Hansol and Seungkwan, the area is filled with chatter where Dokyeom and Mingyu are engaged in a contest of balancing books on their heads, and there’s Wonwoo laughing needlessly exaggeratedly at them. It’s a bit scary to see how their groups have assimilated together, and yet. Jeonghan’s vision slides to Seungcheol over on the other side — that head that refused to turn towards him the whole afternoon.  _Coward_ , Jeonghan scowls.

His head throbs from the noise, and he taps at his cigarette. “I’m going to go enjoy the weather while it’s still bearable.” When he gets up, he throws a pillow at Seungkwan’s face, "and stop smushing your face into my Egyptian cotton.”

As he approaches the small kitchen area, Jeonghan sees his two friends pressed up against the counter. Junhui has Minghao pressed against the counter with simply a smirk and fingers on Minghao’s chin. Minghao has the smallest smile dancing on his lips. Junhui says something probably not even relatively funny, but Minghao laughs anyway.

“Please, don’t fuck in my kitchen,” Jeonghan announces as he pours himself a drink into a wine glass.

“It’s still midday, Hyung,” Minghao says.

Jeonghan swivels to see the pair, hip to hip, facing him. Minghao is eyeing the alcohol in his cup and scoffs.

“It isn’t anything you haven’t seen already,  _Haohao_ ,” Jeonghan turns Junhui’s sweet endearing nickname for Minghao into something bitter and small.

After these few months, Minghao should’ve gotten used to them like this anyways — using poisons to quell their demons for the short while. Junhui does love to drag the newcomer around their adventures, and Minghao follows like Junhui’s little puppy. He's a little more attached than Junhui’s other flings of the month.

“Maybe you should curb the drinking, hyung.” Minghao’s face is so innocent and full of worry.

It ticks him off.

“Junhui, you should control your pet,” Jeonghan snips as he brings up the glass to down a gulp anyway.

Minghao’s mouth opens in protest but Junhui tightens his grip on Minghao’s waist, bringing him closer almost as a silent gesture to shush him. It’s protective, and Jeonghan bets if it were Seungkwan, he would coo at the action. But Jeonghan isn’t Seungkwan, and all he tastes is the bitterness of alcohol on his tongue. Not sweet at all.

Junhui doesn’t show any malice on his face, just looks at him with a keen eye, “You’re gonna be the next one going to rehab,” and slides on a grin.

Jeonghan narrows his eyes, the start of a twisted grin on his lips.

If anything, Jeonghan pities them. Junhui can continue living in his pretend world of domesticity, locking himself up in his penthouse with Minghao, passing the nights and days together. But Minghao is new money. He has barely glimpsed into the high and fast life of Wen Junhui, a hollow body feeding on the high of parties, drugs, supercars, and spending millions in a matter of seconds. Next thing you know, Xu Minghao will be last season because he wasn’t  _fast_ enough to keep up with Junhui.

Jeonghan smirks against the cigarette between his lips, “How caring of you to say that, Jun. Thank you.”

They eye each other casually, animosity fading into amusement between them. Because they’re used to taking light of all the things that kill them and treating it as a joke. This way, coping feels a little easier.

“It’s still the middle of the day, Yoon. A little early to be a drunkard, don’t you think?” comes from beside him. Seungcheol reaches for the glass in his hand, wrapping his fingers around Jeonghan’s.

Jeonghan grips the table top when he faces Seungcheol. Seungcheol quirks a smug eyebrow at him, but his hand has a steadfast hold on top of Jeonghan’s over the cup.

This is really laughable.

Jeonghan exhales and the smoke billows in the room. He’s reminded that this is their entire life. Afternoon drinking and spending sprees. For people like Minghao, this will just be a bad memory he’ll look back on. Jeonghan lets Seungcheol pull the glass from his hand and place it onto the counter. He tells himself not to be fooled into a dream, because then he’ll be like Junhui, who will ride the high and, as always, he’ll come crashing back down.

The clanging of the glass against the marble wakes Jeonghan from his daze. He sighs, “Can’t I enjoy a nice breezy day with some wine? We’re only my yacht. People drink on yachts.”

Seungcheol grips the edge of the marble counter, staring him hard in the eyes. They both know that the clear liquid in the wine glass is not any type of white wine. But Jeonghan gives him his own challenge — to say something, do something, and try to subdue him like he always does, but only if he dares with two witnesses in front of them.

Seungcheol won’t. And Jeonghan knows that too well.

Instead, Seungcheol grasps his elbow lightly, pulling him along. “Come on, we need to talk.”

His words are strict as ever in front of others, but he’s holding Jeonghan with a gentle grip that Jeonghan feels useless to retaliate towards. Seungcheol makes him weak. When he glances over his shoulder by chance, Junhui’s eyes follow him with a scrutinizing gaze.

Seungcheol has one arm on the small of his back, leading to the deck of the yacht. The seas are calm, and the weather is not deathly cold yet. The sun has reached the highest point in the sky so Jeonghan likes that he can stand outside in a comfortable sweater and still enjoy the feeling of warmth peeking out between clouds, accompanied by bouts of shade.

“We should talk,” Seungcheol says again from behind him.

Jeonghan sighs. He really wants to just enjoy the weather today.

“You’re on my yacht. Surrounded by  _my_ people. Aren’t you being a bit brave today, Choi?” Jeonghan swivels to face Seungcheol, leaning on the railing. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales, filling the space between them with smoke.

Seungcheol wears a serious face, fingers reaching up to extinguish the tip of his cigarette. He gives his own sigh as he removes the cigarette between them and replaces the space with himself. Unknowingly, Jeonghan tenses up, fingers tilting up like he’s waiting to receive Seungcheol’s hands on him.

But it never comes.

Seungcheol side steps to face the sea, sticking by him elbow to elbow. Jeonghan releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Of course. Jeonghan is left bracing against a particularly fierce breeze, only realizing the full effects of November for the first time all day. There is no way Seungcheol would get intimate with him, not while Jeonghan can see his friends fooling around in the back and he still calls him  _Yoon_. How could he be so foolish? His body has already become so accustomed to Seungcheol’s presence.

“The thing I need to tell you...” Seungcheol starts.

And when Jeonghan turns to look at him, Jeonghan truly wonders how a person can do such things to his heart. His strong side profile, even with the breeze blowing his hair up into a mess, Seungcheol is heartbreakingly handsome. Maybe even more because he is something Jeonghan is denied of.

“Don’t get mad at me, Jeonghan.” So Jeonghan keeps his eyes on him, inquisitive. “I need to get a girlfriend. Well, a fake one.” Seungcheol says.

 _Oh_. “Okay,” Jeonghan says blankly.  _Then this is it. No more pretending. End of the road._

Seungcheol’s head whips towards him.  _"Okay?"_  he parrots incredulously. “You’re not even going to ask why?”

Jeonghan lets out an empty and short laugh. Choi Seungcheol, a man who has never been denied. But Jeonghan is no one in Seungcheol’s world so why should his words matter now Jeonghan’s rage is quiet. Seungcheol doesn’t even have the right. He has no right.

He shrugs, doing his best to be nonchalant. “It’s not like we were exclusive in the first place. You’ll get a girlfriend and we can stop sleeping together. It’s fine.”

Seungcheol’s eyes bore into the side of his face. “I think you didn’t hear me. I said  _fake_  girlfriend.”

“And I said,  _okay_ that’s fine,” Jeonghan let his voice raise higher than he should have.

Seungcheol stammers, “Just because I need a fake girlfriend doesn’t mean we need to stop...” he fades off, unable to finish the sentence.

“..sleeping together, Seungcheol? Because that’s what we’re doing.”

Seungcheol bristles, “I know. But it doesn’t mean  _this_  has to stop,” he points between the two of them, like he was linking them into a relationship that wasn’t ever really there.

Jeonghan looks at the finger gesturing between them, then shifts his gaze onto Seungcheol, staring long and hard.

He wonders if it will work. If he did sleep with Seungcheol, but then watch him go on dates with his girlfriend, hearing about Gangnam’s new power couple. To see Seungcheol have this new nice little thing hanging on his arm — everything Seungcheol wouldn’t give up for Jeonghan.

It couldn’t. It couldn’t work at all.

“Yes, it does mean we need to stop,” Jeonghan says in a straight, lifeless tone, “and then you can just get a real girlfriend that you actually like.”

“That I actually like?” Seungcheol repeats after him incredulously. He groans quietly, ruffling his hair into a mess, “Jeonghan, I don’t want to get a girlfriend. I don’t want to see anybody else.”

Jeonghan freezes, his throat closing up in the swell of emotions he wasn’t prepared for. Seungcheol’s words sound dangerously close to something Jeonghan can’t even imagine. Something Seungcheol can’t even step close to. It can’t happen. He wouldn’t.

“But you need one. That's why we're having this conversation right? Well, I’m not going to  _see_  you while you're prancing around with someone—” Jeonghan is at a loss for words. He doesn't want to be anyone's mistress, the one thing he said he would never grow up to be when he was a child, “someone who actually suits you. I know you think I have low standards, but please, this is one thing I just won't do.”

And for a second time, Seungcheol is astonished, striking back accusingly, “I don't — someone who actually suits me?”

“A person you want,” Jeonghan explains with little fanfare. This was a conversation he has had with himself many times in Seungcheol’s bed, long after Seungcheol had fallen asleep. It was only a matter of time. “A girl, someone with long hair, a pretty face, who has nice parents and comes from good standing. Someone kind and has genuine friends. Someone you'll marry and have kids with. Someone who isn’t a Yoon, for fuck’s sakes.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want anybody else.”

Seungcheol says this as if it really is just that easy. Jeonghan’s blood runs hot, his chest is stuffed and lungs expanding faster. _How does Seungcheol make it sound so easy?_ It makes him excited but mad. So  _much_ fills his veins that he can’t even understand.

Why?

Seungcheol sighs, long and tired. “This is just something I need to appease my parents. After they found out about you — the day Hansol saw a blonde girl in my bed, they want to know I’m not fooling around.”

“But we are, Seungcheol. That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Jeonghan spits.

“I’m not!” Seungcheol's voice shocks Jeonghan into silence, staring with wide eyes as Seungcheol’s chest rises and falls. “I don’t want to...fool around. I know you don’t feel the same, but at least — I don’t want to stop seeing you. It’s just how I feel.”

He’s almost shy about it. Like he already knows Jeonghan's answer and he’s painting Jeonghan as the villain as if it’s his fault for not returning Seungcheol's feelings. As if Seungcheol hasn’t spent the entire time they were together ignoring his existence in front of their friends, pretending they were just — nothing. As if he hasn't been making Jeonghan feel like he was no one the whole time, and now he’s saying these  _things_  like Jeonghan means more than he’s actually worth.

“Fuck you, Choi Seungcheol,” Jeonghan spits, his heart bursting in his ears. He can’t listen to anything right now. “I don’t feel the same, you’re right. Because you’re just a selfish bastard, who wants everything but won’t sacrifice anything. And I guess it’ll be an inconvenience that you can’t have me  _and_ try to prove to your parents that you are the kind of son they want, the kind of son  _you’re clearly not_.”

_This love doesn't exist. It's fake, Jeonghan. Don't be fooled like before. Don't end up like them — like your parents._

And when Jeonghan says his part, he is left with nothing else. His voice falls into the emptiness as Seungcheol reels back at the venomous words. His body leans away, jaw clenching as if Jeonghan had just struck him in the stomach. Seungcheol looks sick, just like him. He wishes he could grasp onto something, instead of the ends of his sentences, so that he could find something to stop the acid swirling in his stomach.

Jeonghan just said the truth, but he didn’t realize how much it would hurt if he actually said it. He’s so used to bandaging his wounds with the hurt he would give back. But that was before Seungcheol. Before hurting Seungcheol also meant hurting himself, and now he doesn’t know how to distinguish the wounds he gives and the wounds he’s been given.

“Jeonghan, no,” Seungcheol reaches to him slowly. His hand is gripping at Jeonghan’s shoulder, so gentle, not like anything Jeonghan is used to from anyone he’s hurt before. People did not grip at his shoulders with care.

And yet.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol calls like he's calling out to the endless sea and he’s trying to bring Jeonghan back to him, “You understand what it’s like — to want to be the perfect son. Please. Jeonghan,  _please_.”

This is what they meant when they say men in love could start wars and end civilizations alone.

With the call of his name, so sweetly on Seungcheol’s tongue, Jeonghan understood. Yet those  _words_ —  _baby please understand_  and  _you know why, right Jeonghanie_  — filled with all of the fears Jeonghan’s ever faced, how he’ll let Jaehyun leave, let him cry, let him apologize, and then let him crawl right back. And let him leave gaping wounds for every single time Jaehyun had hurt him.

Jeonghan bristles and wrestles against Seungcheol's hold. “No, don’t even use that on me. I’ve heard this more than enough times from  _him_  to actually believe it.”

Seungcheol grapples at Jeonghan’s shrugging arms. “I’m not, Jeonghan, please. I’m trying to keep everything together. Just let me—”

Seungcheol doesn’t squeeze _and squeeze_ like they do. Instead, his fingers spread out and touch softly, fingertips burning through Jeonghan’s thick sweater like giving love through each end of his fingers. Jeonghan’s whole body erupts in an icy fire, both burning with an aftermath of a chill where Seungcheol leaves his caresses. He’s familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. Full of demons he can’t face, yet his touch is nowhere near the silent viciousness Jeonghan’s body is accustomed to.

“Just like them,” he repeats like a reminder for himself. Like Jaehyun. Like eomma. Everyone else.

_how dare he, how dare he even try_

“Jeonghan—”

 _The Yoon Jeonghan I know wouldn’t let him win,_  Junhui had said a year ago.

Jeonghan breaks out of Seungcheol’s hold, uttering firmly, “I can’t, Seungcheol. I just can’t. I don’t want to,” while shaking his head.

Denial, denial, denial.

They both don’t hear it at first but Joshua calls them from beside the deck.

“Hey, you guys,” Joshua’s voice brings him out of his daze. His eyes immediately stop on Jeonghan’s face, recognizing that far away look he had. “Jeonghan?” He asks carefully, “Is something wrong?”

When no one answers, Joshua’s eyes switch back and forth between both of them.

“Are you guys fighting again?” he tries to tease them to lighten the air, but there’s an obvious nervousness under his words.

“It’s nothing,” Jeonghan barely chokes out while swiping a glare past Seungcheol.

Without missing a beat, he takes this chance to escape. He brushes past Joshua without looking at him, his anger lingering in the air with the people he left on the deck.

On his way the lounge, he momentarily falters when meeting Junhui’s questioning, worried eyes. He is looking over Minghao’s shoulder, having the younger boy wrapped onto his waist and facing Jeonghan with his back. Bitterness comes rushing back into Jeonghan’s mouth and he continues walking, erasing the image from his mind.

Pretending can only last so them so long until eventually, reality comes knocking again.

 

“Joshua, wait.”

At the sound of Seungcheol calling him, Joshua turns back to the deck. “What is it?”

Seungcheol crosses his arms. How does he even begin asking Joshua about this? Jeonghan has been so closed off, but this is the only name that’s been repeated multiple times ... the only link to why Jeonghan acts so strange. But if it’s anyone who would know it’s Jeonghan’s closest and longest friend.

“Who is Jaehyun?”

By the look of surprise on Joshua’s face, he didn’t expect Seungcheol to ask this at all. “You know about Jaehyun?”

So there was a Jaehyun in Jeonghan’s life. And apparently, he was so hidden inside the Roulette by them that Joshua’s surprised he’s been mentioned. It’s information he isn’t supposed to know. But there are so many Jaehyun _s_  in Gangnam.

“Which Jaehyun is it? Congressman Jung’s son? Or toy manufacturer Cha’s? Who is he to Jeonghan?”

This time it was Joshua’s turn to cross his arms. “Why do you ask?”

“Why is it a secret?”

“Aren’t you the one asking me for answers?” Joshua quirks an eyebrow at him, an expression full of challenge that Seungcheol has never seen.

Joshua, known for being quite open and honest about Jeonghan's deceptive agenda, is being closed off right now. It throws Seungcheol off quite a bit. He was depending on getting this information from Joshua.

“I want to know...” Seungcheol remembers the last two times Jeonghan has mentioned this name, each time filling his body with a trembling sense of discomfort, “why Jeonghan cares so much what Jaehyun thinks.”

In reality, this was not really the question he wanted to ask, to put it mildly. But  _why is Jeonghan so fucked up because of him_  is probably not the best approach.

At the mention, Joshua purses his lips and gives him a hard stare. It’s one of those stares that he gets so often from businessmen, trying to scan him, to look behind sincerity of his eyes, behind his words, and read his intentions.

“Jaehyun is Jeonghan’s ex-boyfriend,” Joshua confesses, “And Jeonghan doesn’t  _care_ about him. Not anymore. It’s been over between them. They broke up over a year ago.”

The words repeat in Seungcheol’s head. But he can barely wrap his mind around it. Jeonghan has had affairs in high school, some would call them boyfriends, some wouldn’t. Maybe some were gossip and some weren’t. But at the end of the day, after Jeonghan had his fill with them, no one would remember them. They weren’t relevant within the social circles anymore.

But this.. this Jaehyun. He was,  _is_ , a person who remains relevant. Relevant enough for Joshua to hesitate at his name.

“Do us a favor, Seungcheol. Don’t bring him up.” Joshua speaks with a coldness that's a first for Seungcheol's ears.

Joshua’s face is the sort that can’t be rid of gentleness, but uncharacteristically his words come out with a sharp threat, hidden under a guise of a kind warning. It’s the sort of thing he expects from Jeonghan, or with a small twisted quirk of the lips from Junhui. But from Joshua, it’s the first he’s experiencing it.

Seungcheol doesn’t miss how he says  _us_ like Jaehyun has personally hurt the entire group. Joshua knows more than he lets on and judging from the hardened smile being shot at him, his lips are set on being sealed.

Joshua turns to leave again.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Seungcheol says, making Joshua halt in his steps, “about Jeonghan not caring. He’s the one who mentioned Jaehyun to me, several times. Jeonghan...he trembles when he says _his_ name.” Seungcheol halts in his sentence, just coming to the startling realization as he says it.

The barrier behind Joshua’s eyes shatters a bit. And Seungcheol hesitates to say the next words because he knows he doesn’t like hearing it either.

“I don’t think it’s over for him.”

And Seungcheol wants to know who can make Jeonghan doubt himself that much, even a year after.  _How much did Jeonghan love him_ — _does Jeonghan love him?_ He desperately wants to ask. Who is this person, whose ghost is barely there that can make Joshua’s smile slip off? But Joshua is stoic, and then he turns away, letting Seungcheol’s statement hang and gives nothing more.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


“Dad, stop.” Seungcheol sits in his car, pressing the back of his head against the car seat in frustration as he has his phone in a death grip. “I know you’re worried. But I’m bringing the client in slowly. Just give me a little more time, ok?”

Seungcheol’s dad sighs into the receiver, and Seungcheol curses at how even over the phone, disappointment never fails to reach him.

_“We’re riding on this, Seungcheol.”_

His lips stretch thin and straight, as Seungcheol brings his forehead onto the wheel. “I know. I’m doing my best.”

He can hear all the words in his head, chanting at him to  _do better_.

Seungcheol’s dad simply replies, _“I know, son. I have to go now, Seungcheol-ah. Have a good night.”_

“Goodnight, Dad.”

Seungcheol ends the call, groaning and bangs his palm into the wheel repeatedly. _Fuck, just another thing to add onto the list of things that could fuck it up for him._  Seungcheol sighs, looking at his phone and clicking on his most recent notification.

cousin (Face With Look Of Triumph)

**Seungcheol**

— what do you know about a jaehyun that used to hang around the roulettes?

**Hansol**

— huh? where did that come from?

— are you talking about jeonghan hyung’s ex-boyfriend?

**Seungcheol**

— so you know him.

— do you know anything else besides that? anything important?

— has seungkwan said anything?

**Hansol**

— oh uhm no, not that I can remember....

— he was just really on and off with jeonghan hyung

— apparently jeonghan hyung doesn't like talking about it? idk

— it was a really long time ago, seungkwan and i weren’t even dating yet

— besides only the inner circle knows stuff about jeonghan like that

Seungcheol recalls the face Jeonghan was making earlier. Eyes blown wide, features frozen, his tightly clenched jaw as he stilled under Seungcheol’s touch. His muscles were taut and folded in like he wanted to tightly wrap around himself.

He was so upset. When Seungcheol essentially ... confessed. He didn’t think Jeonghan would react well, but not like _that_. Jeonghan became mad and then withdrawn, so quickly, so fast.

Seungcheol groans deeply, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration. He sent out a quick text and threw his phone into the passenger seat carelessly.

He has got to figure this out.

  


◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

  


yoon

**Seungcheol**

— where are you?

**Jeonghan**

— at home, choi. studying for finals.

— not all of us have the luxury of having graduated already.

**Seungcheol**

— stay there.

What greets him when the door opens is a new face. Seungcheol feels as if he’s seeing Jeonghan for the first all over again, except this time, Jeonghan seems a little older, more mature with his small face framed in a boyish cut, no longer hidden behind those long blonde waves. It is like he is seeing Jeonghan so much more clearly.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol breathes out, less of a greeting and more in a release of shock.

“What are you doing here?” Jeonghan stands unamused, days of anger rushing to the surface as he crosses his arms in the doorway.

“I—”

Seungcheol is reminded of why he’s suddenly outside Jeonghan’s place and the burning in his chest ignites. Seungcheol has not seen Jeonghan in days, which is usual for them. But it was different while he actively knew Jeonghan was mad at him, like constantly being at an edge, not knowing whether or not Jeonghan would take him back again. Seungcheol wouldn’t have known what to do if he really didn’t get to touch Jeonghan ever again, to caress his skin, hold the weight of his thigh in his palm. A part of him relishes in the arousal fueling him, and another part hides, cowering in shame of hiding secrets and wanting things he's not supposed to have.

But the sight of Jeonghan’s face is more than enough to overpower any shame he feels. Jeonghan stands untidy, a loose thin shirt hanging from his shoulders like a separate skin, pajama pants, and tired eyes. Even now, Jeonghan glows with everything Seungcheol wants. To feel the skin, he could see through the shirt, to cup that small face in his hands and feel the length of his hair.

With only gravitation to blame, Seungcheol pushes the door in and Jeonghan steps back, giving Seungcheol access to go inside. The door falls shut out of Jeonghan’s hands, and Seungcheol brings his hand up to grasp the back of Jeonghan’s neck, fingertips brushing against the ends of the new style.

“You hair... what did you do to it?”

“What?” Jeonghan echoes, distracted by Seungcheol’s touch as he tilts his head to lean into it.

“It’s short. Why?” Seungcheol asks persistently, even sounding a little demanding. Yet his hand is the gentle lover, his fingers cast soft strokes across Jeonghan’s nape.

“I just wanted to,” Jeonghan says, letting out a fussy noise when Seungcheol presses them closer, chest to chest.

Seungcheol just keeps noticing it. Like how the stretch of Jeonghan’s neck seems much more appealing, and how even in his front profile, Jeonghan’s cheekbones are so prominent. Jeonghan has shed all the baby fat from when he was a teenager, and now he’s an adult and not like his previous self at all.

“You’re really pretty,” Seungcheol says breathlessly.

Jeonghan huffs, “Handsome, Choi.  _Handsome_. I'm a boy.”

“Does it matter?” Seungcheol whispers, looking up and down and back and forth again, eyes darting all over Jeonghan’s face.

He can’t get enough of Jeonghan, drinking in the sight of Jeonghan’s new look. It’s like seeing him at a different angle he’s never seen before and discovering Jeonghan’s beauty all over again.

“You’re too close,” Jeonghan murmurs.

Seungcheol hadn’t realized he’d been pressing Jeonghan up against the wall the whole time, too enraptured by the now short-haired male. He closes a fist around the ends of Jeonghan’s hair and gives an experimental tug. Jeonghan’s eyes snap shut, eyebrows furrowing as he lets out a soft grunt. Seungcheol’is chest rumbles, barely being able to steel back a growl and his desire to just get Jeonghan on his knees right here. Jeonghan gasps when Seungcheol’s hips press insistently against his. The intimacy of the position is something that they’re both familiar with, the start of wandering hands and uncontrollable moans.

“Not here,” Jeonghan sputters. “Chan is staying with me. The room across the hall.”

 _Chan again_. There’s a part of him who wants only to own Jeonghan, to know that Jeonghan is only his. It’s sadistic and makes him want to control, lose control to the other male, give him everything he wants to see Jeonghan react to his touch, his touch only. Seungcheol’s chest inflates the idea of having Jeonghan right here regardless of whether the little freshman would hear or not.

 _Better if he does_.

“What if I want to take you right here, Hanie?” Seungcheol sneers, tightening his hold on Jeonghan’s hair.

“Ah—! Then you’d just let him hear me? Us? How  _the_ Choi Seungcheol is in my apartment trying to get into my pants?” Jeonghan asks with his  _p_ ’s popping, venom in every syllable.

Jeonghan’s eyes droop closed, open, then closed as Seungcheol’s grip on his hair stayed. So Jeonghan is still on about it. He’s still mad. Seungcheol’s chest actually rumbles this time, and not from lust, but from Jeonghan’s threat. As usual, the side of the Jeonghan he has known, detests, comes out. The part of him that’s manipulative, superior, making people feel small. It only adds to his problems.

“Aw, is the King afraid of a little fresh meat?” Jeonghan’s voice lits up in his mocking tone.

But it’s Seungcheol who has him backed up against the wall, eyes fluttering at his touch. “You’re really gonna talk to me like that, angel?” Seungcheol growls low into Jeonghan’s ear. His patience drops by the second as the blood rushes down south, and the yearning to make Jeonghan squirm seems too pleasing.

Jeonghan whimpers, his glare softening into a lusted over glaze within a second. He tugs onto the fabric of his shirt, “Cheol-ah,” he calls longing like a siren trying to drown him, “Bedroom.” Jeonghan sounds so good begging. His lips are wet from biting on it, open and pouty with pants escaping him.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol forces out, stepping back and pushing Jeonghan in front of him. “Hurry, let’s go.”

Jeonghan leads the way to the room at the very end of the hall. It is Seungcheol’s first time being inside Jeonghan’s apartment, what he can observe on the way are only the cold floors and minimal decoration. It’s a home lived in, but with little attachment, so little belonging. As if all of Jeonghan’s belongings could be packed in a suitcase, and one day you’d find the apartment absent of an owner without noticing. But he doesn’t have the time to look around and catalog the little things about Jeonghan’s place. Maybe later, Seungcheol reminds himself.

As soon as they’re inside Jeonghan’s bedroom, Seungcheol is backed against the door and his back knocks it shut with a click. Jeonghan presses up close to him, chest to chest, and they’re both stolen of their breaths despite the action barely begun.

“What do you want?” Jeonghan whispers, eyes boring into his.

Seungcheol’s eyes trace all over Jeonghan’s face. Admiration paints his expression as his eyes wander down Jeonghan’s fanned eyelashes, neatly trimmed brows scrunched in a furrow, the endearing small bump on his nose, and that open, pink mouth. Jeonghan carefully follows his, the two engaged in sort of dance where Jeonghan leans back as Seungcheol chases his lips. Their breaths mingled, both their lips like two ends of a magnet, close but never touching.

“You...” Seungcheol bites down on his own lip, wishing he could feel his teeth sink into Jeonghan’s pink flesh.

He pictures it like biting into a fruit. He’d break through the skin, splitting open the cherry, and red would flood onto his tongue. But the more Jeonghan refuses, the more he lusts for it, like a man starved of his favorite food.

Seungcheol flicks his tongue over the edge of his teeth,  _predatory, dangerous, hungry_ , it says. “If you won’t use your lips to kiss, they’re good for something else, yeah?” He coaxes with a hand rubbing sensually along Jeonghan’s shoulder.

Wanting to kiss Jeonghan, chasing him, but not being allowed to. It reminds him why he doesn’t have the luxury to. And suddenly so much more of this tension — not just Jeonghan but his family, his public image, all rushes up to the surface. It’s buzzing on the top layer of his skin and as Seungcheol grips onto Jeonghan’s shoulder, the only thing in his thoughts are to escape this feeling.

His blood is boiling and he just wants to feel Jeonghan, and Jeonghan only, so he can fuck all his feelings out and not have to deal with feeling _pathetic_ and _angry_ ever again.

Jeonghan sucks in a breath and maintains eye contact with him as Seungcheol puts pressure on his shoulder and pushes him to his knees. It’s so compliant, it almost seemed like he kneeled out of instinct the second that Seungcheol put his hand on Jeonghan's shoulder. Jeonghan mouths the front of Seungcheol’s jeans, rubbing his cheek against the bulge like a cat warming up to its owner before getting their treat.

Seungcheol closes his eyes at the soft pressure Jeonghan’s putting onto his cock through the fabric of his jeans. The sound of metal clanging and a zipper being pulled down echos into his ears. The cold air hits him, and then shivers erupt across his whole body. His eyes fly open because the head of his cock is being completely wrapped in wetness. When he looks down, Jeonghan is already quickly sinking his mouth down his length. Already quick to work.

“Jeonghan..” Seungcheol moans, breathless.

Seungcheol threads his hand through Jeonghan’s hair, cupping the back of his head. The tight suction drives Seungcheol crazy as Jeonghan loosens his jaw and flattens his tongue against his skin. It’s so warm and moist inside the small cavern, he has to breathe deeply to restrain himself from thrusting his hips into Jeonghan’s mouth uncontrollably. His eyes flutter open and closed. Seungcheol fights to keep them open because he wants to drink this whole picture in: Jeonghan on his knees, eyelashes collecting tears, glistening lips and  _his_ cum collecting on the corners of Jeonghan’s mouth.

Seungcheol lets out a loud groan, guttural and shameless.

His hands helplessly clutch Jeonghan’s hair in rough fists. Seungcheol hissing, “S-sorry,” through his teeth, clenching, unclenching layers of hair in his fingers, not wanting to hurt the younger.

Jeonghan peers up from his eyelashes, eyes shining and pulling Seungcheol deeper within.  _Fuck, he’s so cute and seductive at the same time._  The tip of his cock hits the back of Jeonghan’s throat and Seungcheol prays to the gods because it takes everything he has to not fuck wildly into Jeonghan’s mouth. Seungcheol takes in a deep breath and doesn’t dare to move an inch. _It’s too much._ Every nerve feels like it’s on fire, with poison sent through all his veins and burning him up on the inside.

His palm is laid flat against Jeonghan’s head even though he could just give up all self-control and use Jeonghan for his own pleasure. He could just use Jeonghan’s mouth as a sex toy, treat it as just a wet hole to fuck and not care at all. Seungcheol's head is empty of everything but Jeonghan's tongue and hot suction. He no longer feels anger or guilt, just _lust_  swimming in his veins.

But Jeonghan looks up at him, shining almond eyes that flutter, and Seungcheol wants to treat him so nice, make those cheeks flushed and embarrassed.

A sight worth dying for.

Jeonghan makes an indistinguishable noise under him, jaw loosening, and buries his nose all the way into Seungcheol’s stomach. It’s a feat that Seungcheol hasn’t ever thought possible, but Jeonghan makes everything possible when it’s him. Then, he bobs his head to a rough rhythm, almost vicious in the way Seungcheol’s cock tears down Jeonghan’s throat. It’s too much, too fast. Heat and suction take Seungcheol as its victim as he loses himself in the tightness.

“Jeonghan, take it, ngh, slower,” Seungcheol squeezes out. His thumb brushes on Jeonghan’s slack jaw, worry overcome with lust. His mind becomes a muddled pile of overflowing emotions, unable to pick which one.

Jeonghan gives a whine, shoving Seungcheol’s cock down once more and holds himself there. Seungcheol staggers his breaths and he watches in the strangest combination of arousal with concern as Jeonghan's body becomes still, not a limb moving nor breath was taken as his throat closes in on the head of Seungcheol's cock.

Then, Jeonghan rips himself off with a loud pop, desperately heaving and choking on the air he tries to breathe air into his lungs.

“Christ, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol sputters, the world spinning around him, “You shouldn’t have forced yourself.”

Jeonghan coughs for a few moments, wiping his lips and looking up. “Sorry, it's been a long time. I’ll try again,” he says earnestly and quick to recover.

He moves to dive back down, but Seungcheol inches his hips back, pulling his underwear back over his length.

“Wait, Jeonghan. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Jeonghan huffs, glaring at his underwear like it had offended him. “Was it not good?” he asked, sounding demanding like a child who was accused unfairly.

“No, it was—” Seungcheol sighs, “It felt good,  _really good_. But just a little bit like you were,” he pauses, wincing, “forcing yourself.”

“It wasn’t good,” Jeonghan deadpans, serious, dull eyes and all.

“It was good!” Seungcheol cries. A part of him feels ridiculous that they're arguing about this. It was a strange statement to make defensively and made him feel rather stupid for denying himself an otherwise good blowjob. “I just didn’t want to hurt you. You basically shoved my cock down your throat.”

Jeonghan huffs again. “Well, how was I supposed to do it then?” He quietly grumbles, hands fisting at Seungcheol’s jeans unconsciously.

Seungcheol sighs exasperatedly. “Is this your first time, Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan's head whips up, eyes widening in outrage.

“Of course not! It’s how I did it with Jaehyun all the time. He taught me how to do it properly because I was too  _timid_ , that I should just let..him...” he trails off seeing how Seungcheol’s face morphs into something else, “...lead.” Jeonghan gulps, not liking how the other’s face darkened at all.

“Seungcheol?”

There it was again. His name.  _Jaehyun_ , Seungcheol seethes. Whenever his name comes up, it seemed to send Seungcheol into a whole different fucking dimension because everything he knew about Jeonghan would become obsolete, and he would feel useless battling against someone and something he doesn't know.

Seungcheol started to feel the shame churn inside him for treating Jeonghan like that. Like how Jaehyun would. Seungcheol used Jeonghan like a bowl to fill up with his desires when this itself is the act he wants to disprove. Of course, this is how Jeonghan would react if Seungcheol came in and made the boy immediately get on his knees. He had a few hunches that Jaehyun, whoever he was, ex-boyfriend and all, was not very  _nice_  at all when he had sex with Jeonghan.

And Seungcheol is trying to do the opposite, he's trying so hard to prove that he's not this _Jaehyun_ , but he wasn't gentle or caring when he came through the door. He just wanted Jeonghan for his body so that he could wash away his worries.

“I should’ve never come,” Seungcheol grunts.

He pushes himself off the wall, disappointed at his own behavior.

“Wait!” Jeonghan uses his hands to push his hips back against the wall, a soft knock made onto the door from the force. “Let me try again,” he urges, voice soft and pleading.

Seungcheol looks down and he can't believe it.

“ _Jeonghan_ ,” Seungcheol is close to yelling, “ _look at you_.”

He tilts Jeonghan’s head up, forcing him up by his chin and jabs his thumb onto the roof of his mouth — to which Jeonghan winces at. The flesh is swollen and feels as if it's been roughly used. Jeonghan would look lewd like this in any other situation, his deep rose burned cheeks, spit-shined lips, and his throat rubbed raw.

But not to Seungcheol. Not like this.

“I told you I don’t like hurting you,” he reprimands softly, holding more disappointment in himself than worry. “You don’t even know how to do it right without hurting yourself. You don’t even like it.” He lets his hands fall on his thighs in defeat.

“I like it!” Jeonghan says a little too eagerly.

Seungcheol raises a brow, unconvinced.

“But I do,” Jeonghan says a little more softly. “I want to make you feel good. I want to do it right.” His lower lip juts forward, fully pouting as it does when Jeonghan’s displeased. “You can teach me, Seungcheolie,” he says delicately with that keen sheen over his skin, glowing and pink dotted on his cheeks like he knows exactly how to make Seungcheol give him everything.

Seungcheol contemplates.

Where he had previously thought Jeonghan’s experienced promiscuity meant he could be less attached, now seems misplaced. Instead, Jeonghan unravels like a flower, a promise of beauty on the outside, lures you to touch and feel. But once Seungcheol touched him, the more he unraveled, the more attached he became.

He became addicted to the experience.

How easily Jeonghan unravels, soft mouth uttering sacrificial words, planted by a person with the wrong intentions. Unexpectedly and delicately falls another petal. Jeonghan is experienced in all the wrong ways. Jeonghan is easy to corrupt. But how easy it would be for Seungcheol to  _pluck pluck pluck_  those petals, plant new seeds, and rewrite all the wrongs, make him blossom into a new beautiful flower.

Seungcheol sighs, cradling Jeonghan’s face in his palm. His eyes shine with a pleading glean as he looks up at Seungcheol in the window-lit darkness of the room.

“Fine,” he relents.

He tugs a bit at Jeonghan’s hair again before he can go soft again from thinking too much and leads Jeonghan’s mouth over the head of his cock, the tip just peeking out of his boxers. “Don’t ask me to do things you don’t even like, Hanie,” he tries to say gently. Seungcheol breathes out deeply from his nose, the head of his cock brushing against Jeonghan’s tongue.

“Now listen,” he says sternly, “don’t treat this like some kind of fucking challenge. It’s not. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Seungcheol gives a tentative thrust, just the smallest movement of his hips. He brushes Jeonghan’s hair back from his forehead, lifting Jeonghan’s gaze up to face him. “If you don’t even enjoy it, how am I supposed to enjoy it?”

But even this seems too fast, like he hasn’t been able to catalog it all.

Jeonghan’s mouth full and stretched around the tip of his girth makes it hard to stop, but still he shifts Jeonghan’s head off, prompting Jeonghan to make a cute, confused noise.  _Fuck, why does he have to make things so hard?_

“How do you like it?” Seungcheol asks, indulging the other far too much.

Jeonghan frowns, seeming upset at this. “I wouldn’t really know...” he raises his head again, wide eyes gleaming expertly innocent despite his next words. “But I like the taste, when you grab my hair,” he bites his lip, swallowing and the sight has Seungcheol feeling exactly the same way — anticipating, heating up like a warmer, “when you just lose control a bit and...” Jeonghan trails off, choosing to slide his hands down Seungcheol’s thighs seductively.

Seungcheol sighs at the touch. “You need to take your time, ease into it,” he instructs, “stretch it out, long and nice. I want you to like it,” he drawls, trailing his thumb around Jeonghan’s puffed lips, “make yourself a drooling mess,” his thumb pushes onto Jeonghan’s lip, “take my cock nice and deep,” the rosy softness swells around his fingertip, “then taste my cum on your tongue,” he breathes out, smearing his precum along the seam of Jeonghan’s lips.

“How about that?” Seungcheol asks, both of their pupils deep, black, and blown out.

Jeonghan’s tongue darts out to lick the cum off. “I want to,” he sighs and mouths along the head of Seungcheol’s cock.

Jeonghan starts giving kitten licks on the tip, brushing his tongue against the slit intentionally. He pulls down Seungcheol's boxers in the front to give little nips along the sides, not enough to be uncomfortable, while keeping eyes on Seungcheol’s face, scrutinizing whether he likes it or not. And how could Seungcheol not like it, when Jeonghan has his mouth on his cock, looking up at him with those clear, curious eyes.

Seungcheol slides his hands back into Jeonghan’s hair, one hand cradling his jaw as if to gently support his head up. Jeonghan leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut and lets Seungcheol’s cock slip past his lips. He gives a wanton moan, muffled by a full mouth.

Inside, Jeonghan’s tongue curls around Seungcheol’s length, hot and wet just like before. Except for this time, Jeonghan bobs his head at a leisure pace, moans vibrating around his cock and makes Seungcheol’s thighs tense. His hand leads Jeonghan’s head onto his cock a bit faster. Jeonghan braces his hands on Seungcheol’s hip and thighs. His whines and groans grow louder as the speed picks up.

Saliva coats Seungcheol’s cock sleek and sticky, dribbling out and onto Jeonghan’s chin. Puffs of Seungcheol’s cum collects at the corner of Jeonghan’s lips, coated in a thin shine and gloss where it’s stretched around his girth. The head of Seungcheol’s cock brushes along the roof of Jeonghan’s mouth deliciously. He can feel all the ridges and bumps, the velvet touch of Jeonghan’s tongue delivering electric pulses to his nerves.

“You look so good, Hanie, you know that?” Seungcheol grunts from above, swiveling his hips and canting them out every so often. “So,”  _thrust_ , “fucking,”  _thrust_ , “pretty,”  _thrust_.

Jeonghan looks ravenous, and so so eager as he bobs his head to his set rhythm, never missing the chance to take Seungcheol long and deep, quicker and quicker,  _more more more_. He emits a long whine, voice thin and muffled, jaw completely slack and tears gathering on his eyelashes. He deliberately angles down and swallows Seungcheol around the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol growls, “Jeonghan, you—”

He pulls Jeonghan off him harshly, the male heaving gasps in as Seungcheol forms a tight fist around himself and pumps hastily. Thin long ropes of clear white shoot across Jeonghan’s face, taking him for a surprise as he snaps his eyes shut and braces Seungcheol’s orgasm. Stripes drip down his face, slipping between his nose bridge, across his cheeks, and down his lips, as he opens his eyes again. Soiled, obscene with his eyes glittering. Gently, Jeonghan tucks Seungcheol back in as if all is normal.

Panic overtakes his system. Shame burns on his cheeks over how he came without notice, overzealous like a virgin boy, all onto Jeonghan’s face. “Sorry!” Seungcheol apologizes wildly, “I couldn’t control myself. I didn’t even ask—” he frantically wipes a long stripe off Jeonghan’s cheekbone with his entire thumb.

Jeonghan tilts up to suckle on his thumb, looking up through his eyelashes.

“I like it. Your taste.”

He then brings his fingers, thinly delicate shaped as like the rest of him and scoops off the stickiness from his face. His tongue, slippery and moist, licks up his finger to collect it onto his tongue.

Inside of Seungcheol, surely, he makes a dying noise he could not bear to let out.

“Up,” he orders with haste.

Seungcheol grabs onto whatever parts of Jeonghan he could get. Seeing Jeonghan so eager to take Seungcheol for whatever he gave made him only want to give Jeonghan the same treatment. To make him unravel just as he makes Seungcheol unravel so easily.

With a grip so desperate, Seungcheol holds Jeonghan intimately, touching him where he is allowed, like a need filled his veins to just be close and dim the scorching of his skin with Jeonghan’s touch, anywhere, everywhere. Seungcheol aligns them, shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest, stomachs touching, hips ground together, and legs entwined like vines. Seungcheol wants Jeonghan to feel his need, his desire for him.

How Jeonghan could be adored like no other will have or ever again.

“You still want to go again?” Jeonghan makes a noise of alarm, leaning off from him.

“Just you,” Seungcheol mutters, mouth immediately latching onto Jeonghan’s neck and nips under his ear.

Jeonghan fusses, craning his neck away, backing up as Seungcheol palms him. They bump into Jeonghan’s nightstand as Seungcheol reaches under his shirt, touching the smooth skin of his stomach. Jeonghan grunts when Seungcheol’s hands make fast work of ridding his pajama pants.

“Seun—Seungcheol, wait,” Jeonghan scratches at his biceps, trying to grab at him.

But Seungcheol hears none of that, stripping his shirt up and lowering his mouth to trail down the soft stomach. Jeonghan squirms in his grasp, limbs everywhere, muscles tensing and releasing.  _So sensitive_. He yearns to see Jeonghan underneath him again, to know the pleasure of bringing Jeonghan so close, unraveling sweetly with Seungcheol’s hands. When Seungcheol puts his lips right above his navel and  _sucks_ , Jeonghan gives out a loud moan but immediately cuts it short like he wasn't expecting it.

The nightstand digs onto Jeonghan’s back as he claws onto Seungcheol’s shoulders. Rattling and knocking bounces off the walls with their rough movements against the nightstand. Jeonghan twists and his hand swings across the surface, knocking over the lamp in a muffled thud onto the rug, casting them into a dim and shadowy light.

Seungcheol pops his head up, “You’re too loud.”

“Strawberries,” Jeonghan pants out, barely managing to say the words. “Strawberries," he says again softer.

 _Safeword._  It was something Seungcheol had to put in place after the time in the car. He didn’t know when they would act on this tension between, a mix of frustration, anger, and just pure lust, resulting in being rough. And Seungcheol might do something Jeonghan would never want. So they agreed to communicate and set up a word. But this is the first time Jeonghan has ever used it.

Seungcheol immediately straightens up, eyes erratic as he scans over the male. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you somewhere?”

“No.” Jeonghan cuts sharply, prying his face away from Seungcheol’s reaching fingers.

There it is again, Jeonghan’s way of avoiding him, reaching just out of touch.

Still, Seungcheol’s fingertips press gently into Jeonghan’s skin. He holds Jeonghan like one would with a thin glass cup, barely enough to support, only a glancing touch. “What is it then? Tell me.”

“I don’t want—” frustration lines appear between Jeonghan’s eyebrows as he stumbles on his words. He holds himself close, slightly tilted down and away from Seungcheol’s probing gaze. It’s like he has a secret tucked away at his chest, making him set a distance. He can act so cold sometimes, at a drop of a hat, and it’s frightening. Seungcheol wonders how he learned to do that.

“You can tell me, Jeonghan. It’s okay.”

Jeonghan sighs like a passing of this stumble was troublesome, not worth his time. But the way his fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt, stretching out the ends, a nervous habit, says otherwise. “Can we just do it my way?” Jeonghan says, eyes still stuck to looking down at his fingers drawing along the hem of his boxers. “I don’t want you to look.”

And then, he says nothing more. Not even a reason was given.

So Seungcheol wonders, about every single time he did. When his eyes were peeled on Jeonghan’s body and how Jeonghan would shy away. He wonders if Jeonghan, in some ridiculous way, is insecure about himself. The dieting, the dim lights, never intimate without having some sort of clothing on.

Seungcheol vividly remembers each and every encounter, Jeonghan’s bold hands entwined in his to lead Seungcheol wherever Jeonghan wanted. And Seungcheol was fine with that.

But realizing Jeonghan’s behavior now, he recalls that when his hands wandered any lower than Jeonghan’s waist, he had a tendency to seize up and take control of their position, entwining their hands and shifting Seungcheol’s attention on some other enticing part of his body. However, Seungcheol simply chalked it up as Jeonghan not wanting him to take it too far, or to go all the way. But other things flash inside his head — the way Jeonghan arches when he thumbed at his hip bones above his clothing, his love for Seungcheol’s hands wrapping around his lean thighs, so so sensitive. Jeonghan seems to like it when Seungcheol focuses his attention on all the parts he doesn’t want to look at.

It doesn’t add up, but it’s the most honest Jeonghan has been with him. For the first time, Jeonghan has really used the safeword. For now, Seungcheol will have to inch carefully if he wants to get closer than this.

Seungcheol brings his hands to rest onto Jeonghan’s waist instead. “Ok. Do you still want me to take care of you?” He nods to Jeonghan’s erection straining and dampening his shirt.

Jeonghan squirms, “I don’t... we don't have to..?” he trails off, unsure and voice stretched thin with his face tucked down. He shies away, fingers spread wide across Seungcheol’s chest, trying and trying to keep him away from his embarrassment.

Seungcheol frowns. “I wanna make you feel good. Just like you made me feel good.”

He reaches down, grabbing a handful of Jeonghan’s behind and pulls him closer, practically on Seungcheol’s chest. “Let me make you come, baby,” he lulls sweetly into Jeonghan’s ear.

Jeonghan gasps, fingers clenched tightly onto Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Ok, ok,” he bites out, a little bit too stubborn for his own good. His hand seems to fumble around in a drawer behind him. Then, he gently puts a bottle onto the nightstand,  _lube,_  Seungcheol’s mind screams.

“I thought about what you said,” Jeonghan says, cheeks dusty but eyes looking at him with such strong will.

Seungcheol gulps.  _Ok, let’s not freak out._  “Undress for me then, angel.”

Jeonghan’s hands inch down towards Seungcheol’s pants, thin fingers pick at each item: the button, the zip, the hem. Each move that Seungcheol follows with his eyes steals more his breath. Watching Jeonghan try to lure him in, putting on the show, had his nerves humming, his blood rushed from the thrill.

Jeonghan whispers so soft, seductively, smirk splitting his face. “Don’t look,” then promptly swivels around. He drops underwear in one swift move. Then he’s shifting onto the bed, kneeling with his back towards Seungcheol.

“Can we do it this way?”

Seungcheol sucks in his breath, not having imagined anything like this. He presses his hand onto Jeonghan’s spine and kisses down it, making him bend forward over the bed. “That’s good.” He reaches up, hips meeting Jeonghan’s ass.

Jeonghan freezes right up.

“Relax, Hanie,” Seungcheol whispers against Jeonghan’s skin. “Look over,” he says while Jeonghan turns to look over his shoulder and watches as Seungcheol’s previously opened zipper is closed and he buttons his pants all the way up. “I said that I'm not going to do anything you don’t want to,” he promises.

Seungcheol continues to reach up for the pillows, pushing one into Jeonghan’s arms, “hold this,” and shifts another pillow under his hips. He pushes up the back of Jeonghan’s shirt, exposing his spine as he presses butterfly kisses down it. Hands grabbing a palm full of Jeonghan’s ass, groping them, squeezing them, stretching them apart.

Seungcheol presses the final kiss at Jeonghan’s tailbone, eyes lowering to the pink pucker exposed from his cheeks being spread in Seungcheol’s big hands. Small and just the size of his thumb, so fucking cute. Without hesitance, he dips down, tongue sliding over the hole in the first taste.

Jeonghan’s body spasms, caught off guard and Seungcheol hears him say a very pronounced, “ _what the fuck?_ ” before he dives back in again.

“Wait, what are you—”

Seungcheol makes a very loud, obnoxious slurping noise, cutting him off effectively.

“Seungcheol, don’t,  _ah,_ ” Jeonghan drops his head onto the pillow as the sound grows louder and louder. “ _Don’t_ , it’s— _mn_ —dirty, oh  _god_.”

Saliva has already started to pool around Jeonghan’s rim. Jeonghan wiggles underneath him, trying to squirm away as Seungcheol, very eagerly, starts sucking around his hole. He uses his hands to stretch Jeonghan open, burying deeper as he thrusts his tongue in. He starts slowly, with just light pressure around Jeonghan’s entrance. Breaching its walls, then pulling his tongue out, flattening it against his reddening pucker, licking a sloppy stripe up it, only to spear the tip of his tongue back in.

He can hear Jeonghan’s quick breathing into his pillow. His hips continue to grate against the pillow and push back against Seungcheol’s face every so often. He makes these noises, confused little squeaks like he doesn’t know which direction to go. It only serves to turn Seungcheol on more, the tent in his jeans starting to harden again into a painful strain.

He continues to lap at Jeonghan’s hole, inside it, outside it. His lips catching on the rim and just noisily sucking around, all until Jeonghan’s entrance becomes puffy and red. Seungcheol’s lips detach with a string of salvia still stuck on Jeonghan’s skin. But all around his hole, inside of it too, is full of his spit. Wet and messy.

Seungcheol reaches for the bottle of lube, the sound of the cap popping open, echoing in the room like a preview of what was to come.  _Strawberry_ , he notices the label says on the bottle. How ironic. It’s strangely like Jeonghan. Seungcheol hears him take a deep breath, almost like a gasp and the sound of his sheets rustling.

His eyes pan down, keeping watch on the other. Preliminarily testing, he thinks. His fingers make it down Jeonghan’s spine, and when his fingertip touches the hot opening, Jeonghan’s whole body shivers.

“It’s just my fingers. This is okay, right?”

Jeonghan mumbles out a  _yeah_ , matching him in anticipation.

Seungcheol gives a hum and coats his fingers in a generous amount when reaches down. It seems like they’re both holding their breaths as Seungcheol eases one in. Jeonghan exhales audibly and loosens his muscles thereafter. It’s everything Seungcheol imagined opening up Jeonghan to feel like, tight and sucking him right in. Seungcheol gives a few tentative movements, slowly developing a rhythm as he curls and prods against Jeonghan’s insides.

Two fingers in and Jeonghan is huffing into his pillow. Seungcheol continues occasionally stroking up and down his walls. Three fingers through and that’s when Seungcheol starts really thrusting his fingers in with earnesty. But all he has from Jeonghan are his hips squirming from side to side, uncontrollably twitching.

Seungcheol quirks his head up in worry. Jeonghan has his head buried into his arms, smushed into the pillow, which is the idea, but he also isn’t giving Seungcheol any vocal affirmation. No moans, no grunts, or yelps. Nothing.

Carefully observing Jeonghan’s reaction, he twists his fingers, jabbing them in different directions just to stimulate anything from Jeonghan.

Instead, Jeonghan just pushes his hips out, muffling any noises.

Huffing in exasperation, Seungcheol rises up, placing his head near Jeonghan’s. “Why aren’t you making any noise?”

Jeonghan releases himself from the suffocation of the pillow and blinks at him lazily. “It’s — weird,” his face is flushed and he’s slightly panting.

 _“Weird?”_  Seungcheol echoes incredulously. His fingers form circle eights inside Jeonghan, rubbing against his walls in a smoothing, easy motion.

“Your fingers are...thick...” Jeonghan slurs, cheek slumped against his pillow, “different from mines.”

“Of course my fingers are different from yours.” Seungcheol can feel Jeonghan clench around his three fingers and swallows harshly at the sight of Jeonghan panting. He seems so affected even though he isn’t making any noise.

Jeonghan breaks eye contact with him and buries his forehead into the pillow. “I’m just not ..used to it.”

“You don’t like it?” Seungcheol says breathily near Jeonghan’s ear where he’s settled. His heartbeat picks up fast, arousal spiking just by feeling Jeonghan around his fingers.

“I like the way you do it,” Jeonghan pants, eyes coming and going unfocused, “I don’t usually...”

“You don’t finger yourself?”

Jeonghan’s flush crawls up his neck and he whines, shying away as he buries most of his face into the pillow.

“Hey, hey, no, look at me, Jeonghanie,” Seungcheol coaxes him. He's already halfway pulling his fingers out.

But then Jeonghan grabbing at his wrist, pushing his ass back onto into his palm. “Don’t stop, don’t— keep going,” he pants.

So Seungcheol twists his fingers and jabs upward, making Jeonghan yelp and his hips to stutter, before continuing to curl his fingers, starting a slow steady rhythm.

“Come on, angel. You can tell me anything.”

Jeonghan’s eyes flutter erratically like he wants to keep them open but he can’t help it. “I don’t really touch myself... not unless necessary. I d-didn’t with,  _a-ah,_ ” a gasp escapes interrupting his train of thought, “...with Jaehyun, and he said I shouldn’t, nh, be so loud.”

Seungcheol growls at the name, ruining his mood again. He’s always in the way, huh? That's when Seungcheol noses at the back of Jeonghan’s hair, the scent of vanilla and roses lingering. “Don’t mention his name,” he mutters bitterly and curls two fingers deliberately.

Then, Jeonghan squeals when suddenly Seungcheol jabs against his prostate. He pads against the smooth surface, the soft bump against his fingers, and starts pressing insistently against it.

A loud groan is muffled into the pillow in Jeonghan’s arms. “Don’t do that,” he says, voice high pitched and straining.

“Don’t say his name when you’re with me,” Seungcheol refutes, sounding more bitter than he expected of himself. It tastes like jealousy, greed, anger. “Don’t hide your voice from me and don’t think about him when you’re with me,” he whispers softly against Jeonghan’s ear.

Jeonghan visibly shudders feeling Seungcheol’s breath on his skin. So when Seungcheol noses behind his ear and latches to the spot under Jeonghan’s jaw with his teeth, Jeonghan leans his head back with a mewl that sends blood straight to his cock. More access for Seungcheol, spurring the other on even more.

“Wanna hear you,” he says and continues to lap his tongue onto the spot, kissing it, nipping on the skin with the aim to bruise and mark, “hear how good you feel.” He syncs his rhythm to the jerking of his wrist. For every time he sucked a bruise into Jeonghan’s neck, he would thrust the tips of his fingers into his sweet spot.

“Stop it,” Jeonghan protests weakly at Seungcheol’s words and not meaning it at all. On his cheeks are splattered a rosy pink blush, giving Jeonghan a flushed glow.

“Why? Just look at you. You like that, huh, Jeonghanie?” The way Jeonghan cants his hips forward, pushes them back, Seungcheol can tell he’s probably leaking all over the pillow. “Just sinking into my fingers. So tight,” he says, swirling his digits around. And it was hot and moist inside Jeonghan, he could almost imagine it enveloping around his cock.

Seungcheol can feel the need to just fuck into something,  _quick_ ,  _now_ , building up inside him. Boiling in his veins, inflaming around his hips as he sticks himself shoulder to shoulder, front against back, onto Jeonghan’s shape.

“D-don’t,” Jeonghan stutters out.

Jeonghan is overheating, droplets of sweat dripping down his neck, thin sleep shirt drenched, and the back of his hair plastered onto his skin. His hips swivel in a circle, unable to decide whether he wants to hump into the pillow or thrust down onto Seungcheol’s fingers.

“Ngh, Cheol..” Jeonghan groans into the pillow, unable to help the drool dribbling onto the pillowcase, “oh, oh,  _fuck_ , mn—more.”

Seungcheol laughs breathily, adjusting his body and slips a leg in between Jeonghan’s thighs to get a better grip. Taking a sizable amount of lube from the bottle, he slips a fourth finger in, stretching Jeonghan out nicely. He raises Jeonghan’s leg up on the bed, making it bend towards his chest so that he opened better. “That’s easier, right?”

Jeonghan nodded, little gasps and grunts escaping his lips as he rocks his hips back onto Seungcheol’s fingers.

The excess lube leak from between his fingers out of the stretched hole, spilling slowly across the crease of Jeonghan’s ass and down his perineum. The sight makes Seungcheol’s mouth dry up like a barren desert. He can imagine replacing it with his cock, spearing his fingers in without mercy. Too gone in his own illusion.

He wets his lips. “If I were to fuck you,  _this_ ,” Seungcheol twists his fingers up in a spiral motion, “would be my cock.”

“Cheol—!” Jeonghan’s hips stutter and Seungcheol can feel his walls closing onto his fingers, spasming uncontrollably as Seungcheol’s speed gets more and more vicious.

It’s amazing just how  _loud_ little motions are. A small twist of his wrist, thrusting his fingers inside Jeonghan, lube and remnants of his spit mixing together. Every time his fingers met Jeonghan’s walls, rubbing against his sweet spot, a weak whimper, _squish squish squish_.

“S-so good,” Jeonghan cries out unsteadily. Tears stick to his eyelashes as shaky cries come from his lips. He looks so sinful like this, his thin t-shirt wet and clinging onto his shoulder blades as his back arched upwards.

Seungcheol breathes out shakily, trying not to tremble as his arousal worked its way up, stronger and stronger until he can actually feel a heaviness in the bottom of his stomach, cock aching painfully for release. He suffices by thrusting against the back of Jeonghan’s thigh.

He can feel Jeonghan’s walls closing in on him. “Are you gonna come, Hanie?”

Jeonghan sobs in response, fists grabbing the sheets in an unforgiving grip.

“Come for me, baby.”

Seungcheol strokes across the spongey bump, back and forth, back and forth, until Jeonghan’s hips stutter into the pillow, then he’s crying out, becoming unbelievably tight around Seungcheol’s fingers, and releases.

A string of whines leaves Jeonghan’s lips, gasping as he takes in air, head reeling from his orgasm.

Seungcheol’s digits slip out so easily, and a goop of liquids slip out of his hole all at once.

And once Jeonghan’s taken care of, Seungcheol’s fingers fumbled with his own pants, stripping them off onto the floor as he pushes the front of his boxers down to pump himself ruggedly.

He sits awkwardly on the bed, one knee bent half sitting and another leg hanging off the edge, not caring for grace or manners right now. He just needs to get rid of this throbbing, this heat churning away at his insides. And Jeonghan’s slender figure, shirt barely long enough to cover his ass, nasty liquids spilled across his thighs, just recovering by laying defenselessly on the bed was a sight that riled Seungcheol up enough. His fingers wrap roughly around the base, forming a tight fist coating his cock in all of Jeonghan’s remnants.

Jeonghan’s upper body twists to look up at him, eyes blinking blearily. Without shame, Seungcheol jerks himself off, erratically and harshly. Precum leaks down messily between his fingers. The skin tugs against his palm, dragging up and down, up and down. A terribly addicting friction that only becomes hotter when Jeonghan stretches his arm forward and grinds his palm against the head of his cock.

“Ah, fuck, Jeonghan..” he curses, briefly closing his eyes as all his nerves seem to be set on fire.

Jeonghan’s palm becomes a sticky mess as he forms a fist and rubs at Seungcheol’s tip in circular motions. Through blurry eyes, he sees how Jeonghan watches his expressions carefully. And he would be more embarrassed, more conscious of the facial expressions he’s making, except he can’t. He’s just so pent up from all of Jeonghan’s little noises, the tight suction of him around Seungcheol’s fingers, that he would do anything to just reach his high right now and get rid of the angry throbbing in his cock.

It’s peculiar how Jeonghan watches him, one hand helping him and another fisting at the sheets. His eyes haze over, darting all over Seungcheol’s face like he’s soaking up every detail. His body lays lax, coming down from his high while his eyes do all the work for him, riding on Seungcheol’s pleasure with his teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip.

Seungcheol zones out on that, getting lost in the idea of Jeonghan’s plush red lips, swollen under his front teeth. Soft and sweet, he thinks. _Want, want, want_. With those thoughts, Seungcheol releases a soft groan, spilling messily into Jeonghan’s hand and onto the sheets.

 

When Seungcheol has flopped back onto the bed, stripping himself of his shirt callously because of the sweat and heat, his eyes close to catch his breath. And that’s when he hears Jeonghan slipping off the bed.

The dreaded moment comes.

All the times Seungcheol has ever closed his eyes, perfected the art of feigning sleep, while Jeonghan slipped off from his bed. Seungcheol has never been in Jeonghan’s house, and he can’t say to what the rules are here. He can only assume Jeonghan will kick him out, say he’s had fun, and shuffle him awkwardly to the door.

So he sighs, opening his eyes just a sliver. Jeonghan throws a look over his shoulder he shuffles his boxers back on. Seungcheol watches him with his body tensed, then Jeonghan slips back under the covers beside him and Seungcheol’s body goes lax against the pillow.

Jeonghan reels down from his high as he rests on the pillow, chest rising and falling prominently. He stares at Seungcheol wordlessly, taking him in with his calm, clear eyes. Seungcheol matches his gaze, soaking in the quiet between them like two people coming back to each other after a long day. He waits for the words from Jeonghan’s probing eyes.

“Why did you do that?” Jeonghan asks rather calmly despite the question popping out like it was waiting to pop out unlike how Jeonghan simply unraveled it off his tongue.

“Do what?” Seungcheol asks, replying straight after him, ready now to completely take everything Jeonghan would give him.

“When you—” Jeonghan falters, eyes glancing downward in a repetitive movement he’s made this night, where he curls into himself like shame blundering his confidence in, “you.. ate me out...” he says slowly like he’s unsure if he’s saying the right words at all.

“Because I just wanted to. Do I need a reason? I wanted to make you come.” Seungcheol says rather mechanically, wondering why he has to say this at all.

“But I don’t get it. I didn’t do anything to deserve it. I didn’t even do a good job the first time...” Jeonghan replies back, his eyes overflowing with confusion.

Seungcheol pushes himself upright by the elbows, facing Jeonghan seriously like he was trying to understand him clearly for once. Such a strange thing to say, but _logical_ if he thinks this is what Jeonghan's ex-boyfriend expected of him.

“Jeonghan, why would you need to do anything to deserve being pleasured? You were good the first time by the way. Just a little rough,” Seungcheol smiles, small and sweet. He can’t help but press his thumb against Jeonghan’s cheek, brushing against the beauty mark in his way of comfort. “I don’t know what you’re used to but I just wanted to do it for you, to make you feel good regardless.”

Jeonghan goes quiet, drifting off in thought. “It did feel good,” he mumbles in hushed awe to himself like he couldn’t believe it.

Seungcheol just shuffles closer, moving his hand onto Jeonghan’s nape. His fingers sway back and forth, brushing against the ends of Jeonghan's hair in the silence.

“Why did you cut your hair?”

Jeonghan sighs heavily, head lolling onto the pillow, “I just got mad. After we fought, I got so  _tired_. I just wanted to look like me.”

Seungcheol frowns. There has not been one moment through the years he has known Jeonghan that he has ever seen him with a short boy-like haircut. His fingers continue combing down Jeonghan’s scalp.

“Was the long hair not you?”

“It was, just not what I really was though. It's was like how I _wanted_ people to see me,” Jeonghan sighs again and rolls to face the ceiling.

Two words people would use to describe Jeonghan was simply: pretty and popular. He thinks of what he said before on the yacht. _A girl with long hair, pretty face, nice parents._ That's what Jeonghan said Seungcheol wanted. 

Seungcheol turns genuinely upset at this, lifting himself by his elbows and tries to inch back into Jeonghan’s vision. “You know I don’t really want a girlfriend right, Jeonghan? I just have a lot on my plate. I meant what I said on the yacht. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. I don’t want us to stop.”

But Jeonghan doesn't show any reaction, just continues to listlessly stare at the ceiling. Instead, he asks, “Why did you come here, Seungcheol? You were so...”

“Angry,” Seungcheol supplies. “I was angry and upset. In myself. I didn’t want to fight with you. I was.. disappointed.”

Jeonghan laughs dryly at this, turning his face towards him. “We fight all the time,” he says incredulously.

“Not like that. Not for real... about us. Usually, it’s other petty things, about our popularity, about our families, our parents. But not about us.” Seungcheol lifts his upper body from the bed in seriousness, sheets falling around his waist. “I just need some kind of leg up, something good enough to get my dad off my back about me settling down,” he looks at his hands uselessly, “or find a girlfriend.”

“You’re really saying all of this in front of me, Choi?” Jeonghan sneers, “Did you come here to get a 'leg up'? To get information from me?”

Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows. “No, Jeonghan. I already said what I came here for.”

“Make-up sex?”

“No. Why do you always twist things up, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol looks back at the man who seemed lax against the pillows, now refusing to meet his eyes.

“Please, you’re just as bad as me. You’re the one twisting things up,” Jeonghan mutters bitterly.

“If it wasn’t for our families—”

“Not just our families, all the kids around us, they treat you as if you're some _king,_ ” Jeonghan bites out like it's been building up for a while now. “And you act as if you are one. Like you're different from us.” Jeonghan purses his lips like he's holding his tongue from saying more. Like if he spoke any more, he might just spill it all out right now.

Seungcheol huffs, “I can’t help if I’m popular, Jeonghan. The kids like to call me the King. I have a lot of influence. More influence than you. And why would I come here just to leach from you? I can get my own information. I basically rule all of Gangnam in their eyes.”

Jeonghan scoffs, rolling his eyes at the idea of it. The atmosphere calms down a bit, reverting back to small quibbling between them.

“Please, you came  _after_  me. I’ve always had the title until your family came around snatching up things that were never theirs," he says.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes, the natural competitive side of him coming out. Jeonghan always liked to argue about who had more influence. “You’re second  _to me_ , because the Choi family has more money. That’s why they call you the Prince.”

“Because I was given the nickname when I was fourteen. And the Yoon family has more influence. People only started calling you  _the King_  in high school. Of course, they would go for the older role,” Jeonghan says like it’s so obvious.

“We came from different middle schools, Jeonghan. How do you know that I’ve never always been the King there.”

“Gangnam Girl. She made it up,” he says simply like it makes the difference. Just because she was in charge of all the gossip during their teenage years, it meant she controlled the social status of many individuals.

Fine. Seungcheol knew how to settle this, how to make Jeonghan clearly understand his intentions. Once and for all, and in the only way they ever had understood each other, the only way they ever got around, with what Jeonghan likes the most. A game.

“Let’s have a bet then. We'll see who has the most power in Gangnam. Whoever we can influence the most and rejects the other, wins. If I win, you give me information  _and_ if I find a fake girlfriend, you have to stay. And if you win...”

“If I win, we’ll stop,” Jeonghan says.

“What?” comes from Seungcheol, stopped short. This is not what he expected.

“It’s a fair deal, isn’t it? We’ll stop the sex,” Jeonghan affirms, “and then...”

 _And then, that’s it. And then, they’re done,_  Jeonghan means.

“And it doesn't stop until one of us gets rejected. That's too easy,” Jeonghan's eyes glimmer like they always do when he gets mischievous. It's a look Seungcheol has grown familiar to overtime, one that makes his heart race with anticipation. “We play until one of us says  _'I lose'_.”

It is the ultimate game. Typical of Jeonghan to come up with a challenge. After all, anyone can just reject them. But it's another thing to lose to each other by forfeiting, by pride. It is something that they both have too much of. Jeonghan, a mastermind of games, really knows how to strike a deal. To match all Seungcheol offered with a simple but equally important offer. It could mean the end of them... but Seungcheol has so much to gain. So much more.

“Okay, fine. It’s a bet,” Seungcheol says with his voice full of promise.

He will win. He has to win.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, **kudo** / **subscribe** / **comment** !  
>  if anybody has any questions or suggestions, feel free to dm or ask me here:  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/214YOONS) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/214YOONS) @ 214YOONS
> 
> lol so i may have overcompensated for going missing..... but i have a lot in store? 
> 
> one step forward and one step back? where is the relationship going what do you think?  
> pls quote the lines you like most. i love hearing from you ! spam me pls ♡♡♡


	7. SPLIT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **split.** _verb._ \ ˈsplit \  
>  1 break or cause to break forcibly into parts, especially into halves  
> 2 to share something by dividing it into separate parts  
> 3 to end or part ways in a marriage or an emotional relationship  
>  _synonyms:_ fracture, divide, share, sever, depart

**yeri**  
@yerims ∙ 26 november 2018  
guess who i just saw?? prince j is in the science building !!

 **8** replies ∙ **683** retweets ∙ **896** likes

  


**yeri**  
@yerims ∙ 26 november 2018  
he’s talking to a girl..... looks like a deal?

 ****replies ∙ **83** retweets ∙ **102** likes

  


**yeri**  
@yerims ∙ 26 november 2018  
he saw me! shit mission abort bye gals nice knowing you

 **3** replies ∙ **21** retweets ∙ **52** likes

**joohyun**  
@irenebae ∙ 3m   
rip yeri was the sight really worth it? can’t relate

 **3** replies ∙ **12** retweets ∙ **48** likes

  


**GANGNAM GIRL**  
@GN_GOSSIP ∙ 28 november 2018  
Spotted! A little bird saw the King rushing out the arts building west exit. His escape caught on camera. Why the hurry? Do we see a new girlfriend in the works?

[](https://i.imgur.com/btB3NEn.jpg?3)[](https://i.imgur.com/YfsbVxe.jpg?)

 **165** replies ∙ **2.6K** retweets ∙ **4K** likes

  


✳✳✳

  


At around two in the afternoon, Junhui bursts into the broadcasting station at their school. Jeonghan looks up to see Junhui’s ecstatic grin, eyes gleaming when they set sights on him, and Jeonghan immediately turns back down at the papers on the desk.

“Jeonghan!” Junhui calls with extreme enthusiasm.

Oh, he can already tell this is not going to be good.

“...hyung, Junhui. I’m still your hyung,” Jeonghan says flatly without looking at him. He’s got to establish some semblance of respect at his workplace, school or not.

Several other enthusiastic “hyung’s” chirp in repetition afterwards to which Jeonghan deliberately swivels his chair away from them. What he gets is a phone shoved up in his face.

“What is this?” Junhui asks, giddiness pouring into his accent.

**GANGNAM GIRL**  
@GN_GOSSIP ∙ 2 december 2018  
Spotted! Looks like the King is catching onto Prince J. He’s been seen talking to the same girl last week from the science building.

[](https://data.whicdn.com/images/214300665/original.jpg)

**28** replies ∙ **320** retweets ∙ **994** likes

**GANGNAM GIRL**  
@GN_GOSSIP ∙ 15m  
Hm... I smell a bet.

 **13** replies ∙ **181** retweets ∙ **385** likes

**suzy**  
@suresusan ∙ 11m  
this totally seems fishy?

 ****replies ∙ **2** retweets ∙ **8** likes

**seulgi**  
@seulqing ∙ 4m  
me: im bored i wish seungcheol and jeonghan would do a bet or something already  
  
seungcheol and jeonghan: sneaks around at night scheming bets  
  
me:

****replies ∙ ****retweets ∙ **2** likes

**MARK**  
@themarklee ∙ 6m  
haha are they fighting over the same girl or something wow

 **4** replies ∙ ****retweets ∙ **3** likes

Jeonghan slaps the hand away from him with a face of disgust. “Don’t you have finals to study for?”

Just then, Seungkwan comes out of the studio booth, pushing his headphones off. “What’s going on?”

“You have to see this,” Dokyeom practically squeals and shows his phone to Seungkwan, who leans right over to squint at it.

Jeonghan drops his pen pointedly with a clack onto the desk. “And you,” he aims at Dokyeom, “aren’t you supposed to be on a stage prancing around bursting your lungs out?”

“We’re taking a break,” Soonyoung grabs a chair and wheels it to stop right next to Jeonghan, nearly knocking over one of Jeonghan’s assistant producers, Yerin. She eyes the boys trickling in from the door warily, like they would mess up the entire room with the energy bouncing off of them.

Jeonghan has mercy and nods at her, “Yerin-ah, why don’t you go check in on tomorrow’s programs with Solbin.” He gestures to the far corner table where Solbin had been pretending to work but was really distractedly staring at them. Nosy freshmen. Yerin nods and shuffles meekly towards the other girl in the corner.

“When did this happen?” Seungkwan pulls Jeonghan’s attention back to the situation at hand, shaking Dokyeom’s phone in his hand as he yells almost tragically at being unaware of the latest gossip.

“It just came out right now,” Junhui says, grin getting wider.

Jeonghan scoffs, rolling his eyes at the sight of his growing smile. “Don’t tell me you have your notifications on, Jun.”

This only makes Junhui’s grin ever more playful. “Maybe I do,” he shrugs, shoulders light.

Jeonghan ignores the anticipation from Junhui’s energy. He makes no comment, only sipping at his coffee with one hand busy marking up a junior producer’s script. “You should find a better hobby.”

“Oh come on, hyung! Tell us what it’s about!” Soonyoung chirps all too eagerly.

Jeonghan thinks that these past few months must have been too _dry_ if all of them get this giddy over some menial gossip. “What makes you think there’s a bet?” he asks passingly.

Dokyeom whistles, “If Gangnam Girl says something is up, you know something is up. Probably all of Gangnam know by now too.”

Jeonghan spares barely a glance at him and focuses back onto his papers. _Gangnam Girl,_ Jeonghan curses. That busybody stalker and her stupid account telling all of the wealthy elite kids what to believe. Most of the Gangnam kids clutch onto their phones with a death grip, trusting her word and following her like a god. Their generation that's grown up from bullying and dating gossip and into family corruption and sex scandal rumors.

“Come on, hyung,” Seungkwan supplies, “There would be no reason for you to go to another department. And talk to a girl. Unless it’s to get something from someone.”

“And because we’re desperate for some action around here!” Junhui yells, throwing up his hands. “I am so bored, Yoon Jeonghan. You need to do something.”

“Maybe you should get another toy, Junhui. It’ll occupy your time like it did before.” Jeonghan eyes his friend, satisfied with how mentioning his little boytoy created a dip in Junhui’s grin when noticing that the boytoy isn’t attached to his hip today. “Where’s Minghao?”

“He’s helping with the showcase. Building a statue or something,” Junhui waves it off, planting himself onto Jeonghan’s desk. “So, what are the conditions? What do you get if you win? Come on, hyung, if you’re doing a game, we wanna help.”

Jeonghan knows that whenever he has a game going on, Junhui is always eager to join in. Junhui gets chaotic, sometimes even more so than him. Jeonghan likes to rely on social consequences, let the cards all unfold by themselves, then let nature of the Gangnam jungle run its course.

Junhui, on the other hand, Junhui would rather get physical — drugs, gambling, thugs, prostitution — with every act, _the illegal, salacious, poisonous,_ the more excited he becomes. He lives on a high of being so close to breaking the law, mixing dubious intentions into goodwill, and having so much power and money to escape all the consequences. Junhui is a predator that will never have its fill. He will do anything to build that high once he starts. And Jeonghan is not about to let Junhui get in his way of setting the record straight, not to mention... he doesn’t want to hurt Seungcheol with such means.

Jeonghan slaps the pages of the script closed, turning to his friend with his eyes narrowed. “It’s a private bet, Junhui. It’s a matter of pride, so I have to do this one alone.”

Junhui juts out his lower lip in a big pout, wide round eyes sparkling for pity. Just like a kid who guilt-trips their parents to get them anything they want. He doesn't really mean it, it's just for show. His brows furrow, knitting together in a way that always leads to anger. Then Jeonghan remembers Junhui is like a kid capable of a disastrous tantrum.

“ _But_ if it works out for me...” the conditions drift into Jeonghan’s head with a dreaded haze, _we’ll stop,_ he said, _everything will stop,_ “...we can have some fun afterwards.”

Because it’ll take a lot of alcohol to wash away the past few months of _Seungcheol_ , what he’s done to Jeonghan, what he’s done to _them_. He just needs to draw the line. Set a clean slate. Win the bet and he can do that. He can do all of that.

  


✳✳✳

  


Unknown  


  
**Unknown**  


— Hello. Is this Choi Seungcheol?

**Seungcheol**

— This is.

  
**Unknown**  


— I’m Hwang Yuna from the dance department. I heard about your visit and I might be able to help.

— You're acquainted with Ryu Minhwan sunbae right? He's this year's Senior Director for the showcase.

  


✳✳✳

  


“You’re coming to the retreat right, Aejeongie?” Jeonghan asks over the phone as he walks up the stairs. He eyes the many diners seated at tables in a space that takes up one third of this floor. Couples more than anything. Glass windows span across all four sides, flooding the spacious restaurant with light and oversees most of Seoul.

 _“Of course! Eomma said that I can relax this break if I do well in the winter play,”_ Aejeong chirps back over the receiver.

The girl at the front desk leans over and asks if he has a reservation. Jeonghan waves his unpreoccupied hand at her, walking into the floor of the restaurant with purpose, even though he had made no prior calls to this place.

“Of course you’ll do well. Oppa believes in you,” he replies distractedly as his eyes scan the floor, skimming over several faces until he finds who he's looking for. His eyes lock onto its target. _There you are._ “—You’re the best dancer, Aejeongie. Oppa’s gotta go now. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

 _“Okay, Oppa! Do well in your meeting with Vogue!”_ Aejeong pours endearment into her goodbyes and ends the call.

Jeonghan grins, teeth gleaming, ear to ear, as he slips his phone back into his pocket. He passes the many pairs of people eating their lunch this afternoon in the popular restaurant. His shoes click on the wooden floorboards as his focal point becomes a couple seated in a middle table of the floor, one of them telling what looks like a wild story.

“Then I try poaching the salmon in a coffee pot, right? Because that’s all we have. And there are these bubbles of—”

Jeonghan stops in front of the table as the two men turn their heads up at him. “Hey, guys,” he says cheerily. His eyes and grin are a twin set, almost manic without restraint. “What a coincidence to see you here, right?”

He slides into the empty chair, smiling at the person next to him, whose body leans back like his nightmares are taking a real form, “Wonwoo.” Then Jeonghan turns to greet the man on the other side of the table, “Mingyu,” whose eyes bug out, wide and panicked, like he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Uhm, it’s not what you think it is!” Mingyu blurts.

Jeonghan leans his head onto his palm, blinking his hooded eyes. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

At his side, Wonwoo lets out a distressed groan.

“How about this,” Jeonghan leans back onto the chair, teeth displayed from ear to ear, splayed out on the chair like it is his throne. He seems almost god-like. “Let’s make a deal.”

When Wonwoo and Mingyu look at him, there’s something wicked in the way his grin glints under the lights.

  


Deliberate, aggressive footsteps approach the table, each one louder than the last. “What do you think you’re doing, Yoon Jeonghan?” The previous two-person table, then three, becomes four-persons as Seungcheol looms over the blonde boy who sits there like a timely coincidence.

“Oh my god,” Wonwoo grumbles. “How does everyone keep finding us?”

Seungcheol eyes Jeonghan underneath him. “Gangnam Girl never takes her eyes off of the Prince,” he says simply. “What are you guys doing?”

Mingyu’s eyes dart all over, shoulders rising in a panic, and sputtering in rapid speed, “Nothing! We’re dating!” On the opposite side, Wonwoo sinks a little deeper into his seat and just sighs defeatedly. Mingyu’s head droops, his hands clasped in his lap. “Please don’t tell our parents,” he squeaks.

Jeonghan smiles up at Seungcheol, “Guess we’re more alike than I thought, huh, Choi?” His eyelashes flutter innocently, yet his presence itself is chaos manifested.

Seungcheol ignores the male grinning up at him and instead surveys his friends’ faces. Mingyu's head is cast down like he is being scolded, and Wonwoo has slumped over, burying his face into his palm. The corner of Seungcheol's mouth hooks down. “I won’t tell anyone. We were all actually just waiting for you guys to say something or actually ask each other out. Guess, it was more than that — why don’t you want your parents to know?”

Wonwoo huffs, ears turning the hue of red peppers. “Because our parents kept setting us up and I hated it, okay? You’re not the only one with parent issues,” he bites out. Wonwoo’s sigh wears heavily into the lines of his usually youthful face. He tugs his coat from around the chair off and it makes an ear-bleeding sound as he rises from his seat. “Mingyu, let’s go. Our date night is ruined.”

Mingyu's head darts all over the place, on Seungcheol, to Jeonghan, to his boyfriend. Then, late with the program as per usual, his body starts itself up with fumbling limbs, Mingyu scrambles up from his seat, bowing his head in respect to his hyungs nonetheless. He takes a moment to lean down, “Uhm, you guys can have our table. The food is really good here.” Mingyu hurriedly says bye and jogs to the entrance where Wonwoo is already storming out.

Seungcheol watches his friends’ commotion for a while, then slips into the opposite seat with a sigh. “Just what were you hoping to accomplish?”

“Not hoping to accomplish. _Already accomplished_ , Choi,” Jeonghan gloats.

Seungcheol’s peaceful face marres itself into a scowl, “Don’t call me that. We’re already alone.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. The word hypocrite rings in his ears.

“So what did you find?” Seungcheol asks.

Jeonghan discovered a secret worth the trouble.

The task was harder than he thought — to get people to betray Seungcheol’s secrets, or to find anyone with dirt on him. _Nobody wants to betray the King._ A perk of hiding behind the image of _a good boy_ , Jeonghan seethes. So Jeonghan went after the people around Seungcheol. Sabotage Mingyu and Wonwoo with their secret so that they would give up Seungcheol’s. Loyalty can only go so far until it’s your life on the line. Everyone is selfish, even Seungcheol’s friends. Just like the man himself.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jeonghan teases without any actual emphasis. His eyes trail off to the couples around them. What a strange spot to sit at, right in the middle of a huge floor. It feels strangely vulnerable, like everyone is closing in on them.

At that time, a waiter approaches them with a bright smile and two menus. “Would you like to order?”

Seungcheol perks up, “Oh, I’ll have a pasta Aglio e Olio and,” flipping over the menu to the wines, “a sauvignon blanc, whichever brand you recommend.” He jumps into his order like he’s visited the restaurant before. It makes Jeonghan cast suspicion over him.

The waiter then turns to Jeonghan, “And you, sir?”

Jeonghan’s eyes dart to the menu, pastas and seafood on the cover. A large range of smells wafts over from all surrounding tables, hitting his nose and the acid in his stomach starts up again, burning more intensely at his tissue.

“No, thank you,” Jeonghan shakes his head with a small smile.

“He’ll have the same thing, please,” Seungcheol tells the waiter.

Jeonghan shoots him a glare. “No, I already ate,” he insists.

Seungcheol just smiles, peacefully collecting the menus up for the waiter to take. Jeonghan’s stare on him is strong enough to make anyone shake in their seat. The innocent worker looks back and forth on the silent war, taking the menus and excusing himself.

“I said I didn’t want any,” Jeonghan says pointedly.

The lines of Seungcheol’s frown presses deeper as he implores him. “I could see you reacting to just the pictures alone, Jeonghan. We spoke about this. You need to eat something.”

Jeonghan sighs. Yes, there were times where Seungcheol would shove tiny pieces of food onto his plate, whenever he showed up at random nights or when they were in front of their friends. And yes, Jeonghan accepted it because he would be too drunk to refuse, or his pride stopped him from making it seem like there was something wrong. Seungcheol knows exactly when not to cross Jeonghan's line and he _hates_ that.

Jeonghan huffs, “I’m perfectly fine and I don’t need you to worry over me.”

There were way too many times that Joshua looked pitifully at his salads, sometimes even begging Jeonghan to _just drink this protein shake_. The way he speaks as if Jeonghan has a _problem_. Even Chan has started picking up on Joshua’s habit and passes a drink to him offhandedly, nervous eyes darting around him.

“Why are you acting like this?” Seungcheol sighs frustratedly like it’s his own health they’re talking about.

Jeonghan’s doing just fine. He’s functioning perfectly well. Don’t they know how many compliments he has gotten for maintaining this figure? It’s important to him. He has to keep the calories off.

Jeonghan’s tone rumbles in his chest as he says gravely, “It’s important for my career.” He looks at Seungcheol’s unwavering expression and sighs. “Forget it. I’m leaving.”

He is quickly held back, Seungcheol stretching over the table to grab his arm. “Jeonghan, stop.” Seungcheol’s fingers settle lightly around the bone of his wrist, tugging only centimeters. “If you want to, you can just sit there when the food is served. Don't go.” His fingers wrap around his wrist in that familiar way, like the day it did on the yacht. Soft, gentle, loving. It turns Jeonghan’s brain into scrambles and he falters.

Jeonghan slowly sinks back into his seat.

Seungcheol breathes a sigh of relief, releasing his hold and sits back into the chair. “Why are you so serious about modeling anyways, when it’s something your mother doesn’t approve of?”

Jeonghan brushes his hand through his hair. “At first, I did it because I was being rebellious.” He thinks of the random casting card he got on the streets. The man at the time had no idea who he was. And even then, nobody would think of recruiting Yoon Jeonghan, a potential successor of YMH to become a model. But he went anyways, if only to spite his mom. “Then I saw how much attention I was getting, outside of this world, outside of the Gangnam kids.” His thumb fidgets with a ring on his pinky, saying softly, “I’m not big or anything, but I hope to be.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow in question, “You’re gonna go into modeling for real after you graduate?”

A question he’d rather not answer right now. Jeonghan just hums shortly, “We’ll see.”

This must take Seungcheol for surprise, because next he’s leaning onto the table, asking in an incredulous tone, “What about your parent’s company?”

“Jeonghwa noona is leading it perfectly fine.”

“But you’re the only son.” Seungcheol’s hand flops on the table, clearly perplexed, “You’re not gonna fight for it? Don’t you have any plans on becoming your father one day?”

Jeonghan laughs wrly. The sound mocks Seungcheol in which his thought is ridiculous in itself.

“What?” Seungcheol asks.

Of course, why would anyone in Gangnam think anything less? Jeonghan never had any plans of fighting his sister for the company, despite what the routine with Gangnam heirs are, the thought has never crossed his mind.

“My mother would never let me inherit the company,” Jeonghan snides. His legs cross, nose upturned, and one arm hangs across his waist as if he’s holding himself while trying to push that he holds the power at this table.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

Jeonghan’s eyes settle back onto Seungcheol, looking at him straight down his nose. He doesn’t answer Seungcheol’s question directly. Instead, Jeonghan leads with a random question. “Do you know why my mother covets Aejeong so much?” When there is no answer, Jeonghan bounces back from the silence like it’s nothing. “It’s because the first two were never hers.”

Seungcheol’s head whips up so fast, Jeonghan might have laughed seeing his eyes bug out in shock. “What? What do you mean?”

Jeonghan chuckles, obviously amused by Seungcheol’s shocked expression. “I mean that Jeonghwa is the eldest, she belongs to my father. She was born so that she could lead.” He trails off, looking distantly away from Seungcheol and their table like his mind is preoccupied with something else.

“My mother always wanted daughters, I think, but then her second child came along — a son. A son that she wanted nothing to do with. I was... a mistake. A flaw in her plan. Surprise pregnancy.” Jeonghan smiles, so small and beautiful, you wouldn’t even know it was breaking Seungcheol’s heart. “She hadn’t been careful enough. So of course, she never wanted to claim me.”

He then takes a deep breath as if to wash away bad thoughts. “Then Aejeong came like a miracle. Finally, the daughter she has always wanted. Not a son and not the eldest. The perfect little girl that would belong solely to her.”

“What does that have to do with it,” Seungcheol asks, words stiff in his mouth, eyes glued onto Jeonghan’s every facial feature, “why doesn’t your mother want you to inherit YMH?”

It must be a hard concept for Seungcheol to grasp, being raised in a family where he has always been dotted on. Where the parents accepted their children for who they were and never forced them into anything they didn’t want. But for Jeonghan, the answer comes so easily.

“My mother could never really hide that she didn’t want me. It’s like I always knew ever since I was born. So I grew more and more unruly. She could never control me, but...” Jeonghan’s laugh barely carries past his lips as he’s reminded of all the nights he ran away to Junhui’s home, “... she tries. Sometimes I think she’s afraid that I’m too far from her clutches. But other times,” Jeonghan takes a deep breath as his fists shake under the table. His white knuckles crinkle the fabric of his pants, “it’s like she’s afraid that I’m not far enough. There are a lot of secrets in my family, I’m sure you know. She fears me. My own mother fears me so much, she would rather die than let me inherit YMH.”

Jeonghan keeps his eyes on a ridge in the wooden table. A long silence replaces the space where Jeonghan’s voice previously occupied with helplessness.

They spend several beats like that, both of them still in their seats, just breathing, hearts aching, minds processing.

“I wanted to do music when I was younger,” Seungcheol suddenly says, “A classical musician, actually, just like my mom. I played the violin. Believe it or not, C95s was started in celebration of my birth. But when my dad put my violin away, a part of me has always resented him for it.”

Jeonghan’s breathing trembles. The way Seungcheol’s eyes fade into a dull brown makes his heart throb painfully. He doesn’t think he’s ready to hear what Seungcheol’s about to say.

“Then Jihoon got signed. To our company too. I have always been jealous of Jihoon for being able to forge his own route. His dad is an aerospace engineer for god sakes,” he laughs, a mirror of what Jeonghan did minutes ago. “When I watched him in the studio and I saw how he loved his work, I was scared that _that_ would never be me.” Seungcheol looks at his hands, clenching and unclenching the empty air in them.

“It’s so different than when I’m at my dad’s company. C Group tower is like dying a slow, dull death. But at C95s... people enjoy it there. Everything has meaning, everything is _alive_. I thought that maybe if I couldn’t chase after my dream, maybe I could help others achieve theirs,” Seungcheol’s voice shakes with desperate longing in every word, like a spark started with despair, “But I ruined it when I went to Columbia. I thought I could be something I’m not.”

There it is. It’s what he said to Seungcheol on the yacht. _You’re trying to prove that you’re the kind of son they want, the kind of son you clearly aren’t_.

Jeonghan sits with his limbs numb, weighing him to the chair. It’s the truth, but why does Jeonghan wish he had never said it? His mouth is dry without words and his eyes don’t convey enough. Jeonghan doesn’t know why Seungcheol told him his part either. And now there they sit like two fools at loss on how to comfort one another.

Just then, their order arrives to break the atmosphere. The waiter walks to them and puts their plates on the table, “Two Aglio e Olio and the white wine.”

Seungcheol clears his throat and drapes a napkin onto his lap.

Jeonghan shakes out of his daze, eyes drifting to the pasta on his plate. A thick gloss covers the messy contents, shining in oil, and bringing the acidity of his stomach up. The remnants of garlic peppered on top churns at his insides.

Suddenly, a fork appears and scoops up at least half of the contents to put it onto a plate on the side.

Jeonghan raises his head to see Seungcheol peering at him with a set of worried eyes, looking terribly endearing.

“Is that easier?” he asks.

Jeonghan looks back down at the meager size. _Size control_ , he thinks. The amount before immediately brought the thought of throwing up to his head. It’s better than nothing. “Yeah,” he says softly. His fork sits heavily in his palm, movements hesitant as he picks at the spaghetti. He holds his breath when the fork enters his mouth. The first bite makes his stomach squeeze tighter, and saliva rushes into his mouth at the scent. It’s the first real meal he’s eaten in days.

One bite turns into two and soon enough, even half of the food is gone.

Jeonghan wonders how Seungcheol has filled up such a big part of his mind, even when he isn’t there, to the point of getting him to eat pasta for the first time in a year. _He’s scary,_ Jeonghan thinks, _how easily he can change my mind with just a look._ This fear seeps into his mind like poison, blackening even the good parts. It’s not too late to turn back — turn back to the way things were before.

“I have a proposition,” Jeonghan says, thinking of earlier.

_“Do you want to know the real reason Seungcheol hyung came back to Korea?” Wonwoo asked._

_“It’s because he got caught taking music theory classes at Columbia,” Mingyu explained over the table. “His dad has been driving him to the ground at C Group tower, trying to beat the nail into his head that he’s the heir. But hyung actually wants to run C95s. His dad isn’t letting up at all. Thinks it might be too big of a challenge for him or something, no one knows. But it’s been Seungcheol hyung’s goal since he was a teenager. It’s the closest thing to a dream he has.”_

“Do you know Yang Yewon?” Jeonghan asks, and Seungcheol’s eyes just light up. “Yang Yewon completely flipped the Shin Broadcasting scandal around. It’s hard to find a person who can turn public sentiment positive after underpaying their workers, don’t you think? Yet she handled it perfectly.”

Jeonghan’s head is tilted down, focusing on twirling his fork. The pasta gets tangled around it, around and around and around. “She’s a miracle worker, Yewon noona. The problem is, she’s really picky with who she works for.”

“And...?” Seungcheol sits at attention in his chair, chest pressing onto the table in anticipation.

Jeonghan’s breathing gets slow like oxygen in his lungs becoming toxic.

If you hurt someone, there’s a chance they would always give it back to you. But if you offer them something they want, they’ll do anything to get it. It is a fool-proof plan.

“She’s finished cleaning up our company’s mess, so she’s planning to go to her next project,” Jeonghan turns his eyes up, “and if I recommend her to C95s in your name, wouldn’t that be your sure-way in?”

As expected, Seungcheol’s face shines with hope, “You’d do that?”

Jeonghan lets the fork loosen in his grip. His heart sinks slowly to his stomach. “If you say the magic words,” he quirks a teasing grin but the knot in his throat makes it hard to swallow.

 _If you say it. “I lose.” Just those two words_.

Seungcheol’s breath hitches. He looks straight down as he weighs the choices. Jeonghan grinds his teeth behind the grin. He’s got Seungcheol squirming like a fish in a net.

“I’ll think about it,” Seungcheol says, final.

He should be happy. He should be reveling in joy at the sight of the other’s conflicted expression. But he doesn’t. Instead, the small amount of pasta that has left Jeonghan’s plate settles heavily in his stomach.

  


✳✳✳

  


The chilly December air hits him right when they step out of the elevator and onto the bridge to the parking garage. But Jeonghan is full for the first time in a long time, a little lethargic, and so _content_. Even though he’s chilly in his jeans and coat, he’s so warm. He stands a little light on his feet, feeling like he’s in a dream.

“Thanks,” Jeonghan sniffles out, shuffling his soles into the concrete.

Seungcheol jerks his head up, “Uhm, no problem,” then his face scrunches in a way that’s so signaturely Seungcheol, “for treating you to dinner, right?”

Jeonghan’s suddenly so much more aware of the weight in his stomach, the lingering taste of garlic on his tongue. The corner of his mouth pinches together, “Yeah. For dinner.”

Seungcheol peers at him like he’s analyzing Jeonghan’s answer. “I wanted to treat you. To dinner.” Jeonghan gives a short nod. “And,” Seungcheol continues, “I want to treat again. Later —if you let me.”

Jeonghan swallows. The way Seungcheol’s asking, it strangely sounds like... like a date. “Okay,” he breathes out. His mind lights up in alarm bells.

Seungcheol starts peeling his scarf off out of the blue. Then, he steps right into Jeonghan’s space and reaches around Jeonghan wordlessly. A cologne of spring breeze envelopes him. It’s out of place in the December cold but so _Seungcheol_. His hands fix his scarf around Jeonghan’s neck.

“You're sniffling,” Seungcheol says like it really is that simple. His breath is like a thin warm barrier cupping Jeonghan’s cheek. It’s the only thing he feels for miles.

The rigid winter bites at Jeonghan’s skin, but all Jeonghan can feel is the heat burning from his cheeks down, radiating from within, and spreading all through his body. He’s so warm right now. Seungcheol looks at him with those deep brown orbs, envious dark eyelashes that make his round eyes so endearing. The tip of his nose hovers just above his, turning red from the cold. He feels a stirring in his stomach. Flutters.

Something wet drop under his eye. Around them, blurs of white float down. First snow.

Later, Jeonghan will blame the close distance, the cold weather, the first appearance of snow, and how content he feels from the full meal and wine. Right now, though… Jeonghan places his hands on Seungcheol’s coat lapels, staring into Seungcheol’s shaking eyes, exhales, closes his eyes and leans in.

The first thought he has is how Seungcheol’s lips are warm and plump, a little dry, but enough to make Jeonghan’s heart beat too fast and too hard. Enough to think he might just die from how rapidly it’s beating. Seungcheol puts equal pressure onto his lips, only moving slightly.

There’s no heated passion or lust like it usually is. It’s awkward and makes him sweat from every pore like first kisses do, but Jeonghan can’t help but like it _so much_. There’s nothing earth-shattering in the fervor, but it is earth-shattering in the way that it can reduce Jeonghan to melting like a school boy, and not the twenty-two year old he is.

Jeonghan wants to stay here, breathing in spring breeze and being hugged by firm arms.

They might have stood there for twenty seconds or a few minutes. Time is all but irrelevant when Jeonghan pulls back, gasping for air into his lips, puckered and still stunned. They’ve barely moved, but Seungcheol looks just as frazzled as he is. Jeonghan can still feel the pressure ghosting against his lips.

He stumbles back. “We should, uh, go home. I mean, I should—go home.” God, his ears burn.

Seungcheol nods dumbly, stuffing his hands into his coat stiffly. “I’ll–I’ll see you.” Then he jerks his hand behind him, “My car is this way.”

“Okay then. Bye,” Jeonghan squeaks.

The two practically run opposite ways, Jeonghan speed walking any direction that wasn’t Seungcheol’s.

  


When Jeonghan arrives home, he bangs his head on the door of a few times, colliding against the wood to form a reddening splotch on his forehead.

His head lolls against the chilled wood, thinking of the kiss. His lips still tingle and a blush burns on his cheeks. There was nothing special about the kiss, nothing that was particularly amazing about the way their mouths moved. And yet... jitters run haywire in his body, setting off every single nerve in his body. He had just made things very complicated.

“Uh, hyung?”

Jeonghan turns to see Chan’s unsuspecting face behind him, head quirking at the sight of him banging his head against the door like a deranged person.

“Hey, Chan.” Jeonghan reassumes a poised stance.

Chan’s smile grows slowly, blossoming ever so softly. “Welcome home, hyung.”

He says it so easily, words ringing in Jeonghan’s ears in a way he’s never learned to become familiar with. He’s reminded of the times when Aejeong was little and she would run up to Jeonghan whenever he’d come home from school, her waist-long hair flowing, glowing baby cheeks, and twig arms hugging Jeonghan so hard that the air squeezed right out of him. Those small moments when he felt that small glimpse of belonging.

Chan makes it so easy with two simple words. _Welcome home_.

“I’m home,” Jeonghan says back, mirroring Chan’s smile.

He reaches up to ruffle the younger’s hair. Chan’s laugh chimes in his ears as he shies away from Jeonghan’s doting.

 _This is why they would never work_ , he thinks to himself. _There are too many secrets to protect,_ as he watches the corners of Chan’s eyes crinkle. The reason to Jeonghan’s harsh childhood stands in front of him. _Return to reality, Yoon Jeonghan. You two are too different._

Just thirty minutes ago Jeonghan had been so set on winning, he’d been so close to having Seungcheol give up. And within a second, he threw the plan away just because the man fed him, gave him his scarf, and made him feel warm. Just because he got caught up in his emotions and in the soft look casted on Seungcheol’s face. A look that Jeonghan had wondered if lovers wear.

He thinks of Seungcheol’s puffy cheeks, the way his dimples form when he smiles, his sharp eyes that can melt into nothingness and have Jeonghan’s knees buckling. And it’s nothing like Jaehyun’s fiendish grin, alluring hazy orbs, and biting words that nip at his skin like a million pin pricks. Yet the ability to rattle him up is the same.

While Jeonghan lays down in his bed that night, his heart still thumps violently in his ribs, against his lungs, in his throat, everywhere. Every time his eyes close, he thinks about the inevitability of heartbreak and the firm press of cherry lips.

  


✳✳✳

  


“.... if he could ask me for a referral. Which is annoying enough.”

Jeonghan hums vacantly, drifting in and out of Joshua’s words as they walk through the courtyard. Their footsteps echo loudly with each crunch of fallen leaves on the ground. These days, his mind buzzes in and out of attention, focused on somewhere else, or someone else so to speak. Jeonghan gives a deep sigh.

Anyone who has been around him long enough knows that he isn’t very good at coping. Jeonghan only has two forms: drink his problems away, or scare them away. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t know how to do either.

He’s afraid that if he gets drunk, he’ll go knocking on Seungcheol’s door without an ounce of hesitation. And the two have been dead set in a battle of wits for the last seven years, there’s little Jeonghan could do to scare Seungcheol away in a way he isn’t already doing now. That’s why Jeonghan has settled on running. Or in other terms, being opposite from Seungcheol at all times possible.

Whenever their groups would interact, Jeonghan would simply drift off to the nearest corner, quiet and observing. It’s a usual habit of his whenever he completely checks out of the younger ones antics. It’s not hard at all considering the season brings a haze along with it, cloudy skies and the need to stick against a heater. These days, an air of gloom hangs over the campus as exams come upon them fast.

“What’s going on?” Joshua asks, mellow and observant by his side the whole time.

“Hm?” Jeonghan makes a questioning noise distractedly, focus trailing to the corner of his eye.

“I mean this.” Joshua snaps his fingers in front of Jeonghan’s face, “You haven’t been paying attention all day. Or even the past few days.”

Jeonghan whirls his head back at Joshua. “Oh, I’m fine. Nothing’s going on,” he gives a bright smile, pretending that he hasn’t been spending the last few minutes acting like Seungcheol’s presence wasn’t affecting him. But it is, oh, it is.

Joshua lingers on his expression, “Are you sure?”

For a second, Jeonghan worries that Joshua might catch onto something. It’s always been in his nature to be observant. Ever since the day he transferred into their middle school and into Jeonghan’s life, Joshua has always been Jeonghan’s pillar. It’s the miniscule things, the way Jeonghan slightly tilts his chin down, his icy silence, teasing words that are not teasing at all. Joshua knows all of these, and as soon as his eyes flicker with recognition, he nudges Seungkwan or the younger ones to stop fooling around. Lest they cross Jeonghan’s line. So when Jeonghan’s eyes waver, he’s afraid Joshua might just know.

Jeonghan catches a movement. There he is, at the back of the building, just now stepping into the courtyard. The same black graphic hoodie blurs and his heart starts pounding erratically. His fists clutch at his bag, fully turning his body towards Joshua despite every muscle tugging him back. It’s like his instincts are telling Jeonghan _you need him_. Every sense is hypersensitive to _his_ movement and his movement alone. Like he just doesn’t know how to conjure up a thought, or act properly without involving Seungcheol.

He doesn’t know whether he wants to look or not to look, because he can feel it. The burning on his skin when he knows he’s being watched and then warmth floods his cheeks all over again.

“You know what?” Jeonghan places a palm on his stomach, “I’m kind of hungry.”

Joshua’s face illuminates in surprise, “Really?”

There’s nothing that could convince Joshua faster than the thing he’s been begging Jeonghan to do for the past few months.

“Uh, yeah,” Jeonghan blurts.

It’s almost like he can sense Seungcheol. Eyes or body, pleading him to look back. Maybe he is, or maybe it’s just Jeonghan’s subconscious wanting more. He must put enough distance between them at all times so that he won’t get seduced into looking back, into going back for more.

“Can we get chicken? I’m really having a craving.” Jeonghan sets his head tilted just slightly, brows furrowed in hesitance, and his glossed lower lip slightly juts out.

Joshua laughs heartily and wraps a hand around Jeonghan’s forearm in excitement. “Definitely, whatever you want, Hanie. Let’s go,” he chirps, eyes crinkling in delight.

As they walk further off the courtyard, he can feel his shoulders rising in goosebumps. The telltale tingling of eyes at the back of his head lingers.

  


✳✳✳

  


jihoon(Microphone )  


**Seungcheol**

— hey jihoon, can i ask you something? 

**Jihoon**

— yeah, what’s up?

**Seungcheol**

— if you had to choose between your dream and someone you love, which one would you choose? 

**Jihoon**

— someone you love? you’re in love with someone? since when hyung? 

**Seungcheol**

— i just exaggerated. it’s not love, just 

Seungcheol doesn’t know how to explain it. His relationship with Jeonghan, the way he makes him feel. How one single glance could make his heart pop something wonderful and simultaneously sink it to the bottom of the sea. If he were to put all his thoughts about Jeonghan into writing, his words would fill up pages and pages of novels.

jihoon(Microphone )  


**Seungcheol**

— i just exaggerated. it’s not love, just 

— strong affection 

— can you please help me? 

**Jihoon**

— well i can’t speak for anyone else but the two can’t compare. 

— my career can always be changed, i can always do something else with music if not related to it. but the person i love? there is only one. and that isn’t something that can be replaced or changed. 

For a long while, Seungcheol just stares at this. Jihoon's answer. He sighs, phone dropping limply in his palm.

He’s been trying not to think about it for a long time. Seeming as how Jeonghan himself hasn’t brought it up either. It was Jeonghan who kissed him, not the other way around. But Jeonghan has been acting fine, completely normal. They interact in groups, not goading each other, staying in their respective spots. They’ve even been cordial. No one has noticed a thing, so everything is fine.

But everything is not fine.

It’s all Seungcheol can think about. How Jeonghan gripped at his coat and with a tiny tilt of his head, he kissed him. And every day since, every single moment since, he dreams of nothing but a pink sweetness. To chase those lips again, feel them move against his, wanting to take them between his teeth, and feel their tongues push against each other. Every time he sees Jeonghan, even briefly, all he sees are his lips, and the overwhelming feeling of _want_ and _desire_ comes flooding back. He’s become a man possessed by just one kiss.

So when Jeonghan bargained with him, it was like giving him a knife and plunging inside him at the same time. There was no denying that taking the offer was the best chance he could have to convince his father he's ready enough, worthy enough. But then Jeonghan struck him onto his knees with a simple phrase. _Say the magic words_. He would have to lose. Jeonghan really knows how to tear men apart from the inside.

He thought he could have some insight, an outsider’s perspective, from someone who cherishes his dream just as much as Seungcheol does. _Jihoon_. But even that has not helped Seungcheol decide. He is pulled two different ways by powerful, excruciating forces.

Seungcheol isn’t saying Jeonghan is _the one_. But the more time passes, the more Seungcheol realizes it’s getting harder and harder to imagine anyone that isn’t Jeonghan. The thought of him fills up his mind, Jeonghan’s face behind his eyelids when he sleeps, the touch of his skin against his silk sheets, having his rosy lips in any way.

If he were to give up on the deal, on Yang Yewon and working at C95s, he could have Jeonghan, at least enough of him to still his growing unease. But to drop everything he’s dreamed of since he was a boy for Jeonghan, for someone who scowls at even the sound of his name... Seungcheol isn’t sure.

  


✳✳✳

  


It would have happened one of these days. But it just so happens when Jeonghan and Junhui wave Joshua off to his next class, putting him directly in the right spot.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol stops him from walking off, one hand clasping onto his bicep.

“Seungcheol.” Jeonghan looks at him with wide eyes, caught off guard. “What are you doing here?”

Seungcheol points up obscurely, “Business building. Grad school papers.”

Jeonghan looks around the crowd of students exiting from classrooms, entering classrooms as traffic usually happens during this time. “Right,” he says dumbly. How could he forget that Seungcheol was also a business major?

“Can we talk?” Seungcheol asks, voice soft with earnesty.

Students walk past them, others watch them with their heads turning until they can’t follow out of the corner of their eyes anymore. Jeonghan glances at the crowd passing by and clears his throat, shrugging out of Seungcheol’s hold. When he meets the other’s gaze, Seungcheol’s eyes doesn’t waver anywhere else. Not at the other students with their phones up or the ones standing there just watching them together, almost like he only has eyes for Jeonghan.

“Uhm,” Jeonghan’s head tilts slightly towards Junhui, adjusting his backpack in his nerves. It seems like only then does Seungcheol realize that there’s other people around them.

“The lounge room is just down the hall,” Seungcheol mentions, gesturing across the many heads of students.

Jeonghan shuffles awkwardly in his spot, dipping his head in a slight nod. His feet turns to follow reluctantly as Seungcheol angles his body in that direction. He looks back to his friend, standing cluelessly beside him. “Could you stay here, Junhui?” Jeonghan asks, words coming out apprehensively.

Junhui looks at Jeonghan, then Seungcheol, then back to Jeonghan, who meets him with imploring eyes, nearly begging him to go along with what he asks. Whatever must be going through his head doesn’t show as an effortless smile glides onto his lips. “I was gonna go get a snack from the vending machine anyway. Have fun,” Junhui teases but his smile is slightly stilted, never reaching his eyes.

Jeonghan follows after Seungcheol’s lead, throwing one last glance at Junhui over his shoulder. The younger male has an unreadable expression on, but his eyes darken with seriousness as he watches Jeonghan walk down the hall.

  


The lounge room of the business building reminds him of their school broadcasting studio, small but cozy. He chooses to stand not near but not far either, just close to the door. Whereas Seungcheol sits at the edge of the table with an eager expression.

Jeonghan’s hands flop limply to his sides, not really knowing what to do with himself. “So did you think about it?” he asks.

“Think about what?” Seungcheol quirks a clueless smile, his dimples pressing deep into his cheeks. It makes Jeonghan’s heart flutter effortlessly.

“About my offer, the bet? What else did you want to talk about?” Jeonghan rattles off, looking to the side.

It takes a beat but Seungcheol nods fervently. “Right, the bet. I’m still thinking on it.”

Jeonghan crosses his arms, feeling a surge in confidence from the posture. “What is there to think about?”

“The bet, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol’s thumb scratches at the edge of the desk, words dawdling on lazily, “is there no way around it?”

Jeonghan quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Why do we have to do this?” Seungcheol blurts out, knuckles white against their hold onto the metal.

Briefly, Jeonghan laughs. “This was your idea, Seungcheol,” he says incredulously.

This clams him up, abruptly rising off the table. “But you’ve cheated,” Seungcheol accuses, taking slow steps towards him.

These are the times when Jeonghan really notices it. The difference between their sizes. Seungcheol is broader, bigger in muscle and mass, while Jeonghan shapes his muscles to become leaner, slimmer. Jeonghan's instinct yell at him to back up, but his feet stay completely grounded to that spot. His spine bends slightly back as if bracing for the approaching predator, ready to pounce onto him at any moment.

Seungcheol stops when he reaches him, toe against toe, chest to chest. “Afterall, either way you’ve got me doing what you wanted.” His stare is intense, peering into those brown orbs right below eye level.

Jeonghan stamps down on the desire to scream and simply smirks. “So it seems that I have,” he lulls out, pulling onto the drawstrings of Seungcheol’s hoodie, “haven’t I?” His fingers crawl up, inch by inch, feeling into the cotton and onto the hardened muscle beneath. The telltale feeling of desire bubbles in his gut.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol fully whispers, “I thought you said you didn’t do kisses.”

“I don’t,” Jeonghan quips back, but his eyes quiver further and further down.

“Then why are you looking at my lips?”

It’s only then that he actually realizes it as his vision shifts from those always cherry lips and back into Seungcheol’s eyes, dark pits of blown out arousal staring back at him. Jeonghan swallows hard as Seungcheol nudges his nose against his.

“I guess,” Jeonghan gulps, following Seungcheol’s trailing eyes down his face, “I changed my mind,” he breathes out.

They linger there for a moment, the surface of their lips barely brushing against each other’s, waiting until one of them gives in. The only thing heard from the room is the sound of their heavy breathing, anticipation oozing from every facet.

They should’ve been more careful, should’ve kept an eye out the window or at least made sure they had it locked. Because in the next second, the door swings open with a click and Junhui is barging inside.

“Jeong—” Junhui calls urgently, stopping short upon seeing the two of them tangled together, “...han. What are you doing?” he asks almost instantaneously.

The two fly apart like they caught on fire, Jeonghan tripping onto the arm of a sofa and Seungcheol knocking against the table, the two rattling and bumping harshly onto metal furniture.

Jeonghan stumbles, propelling through his words like he can’t speak fast enough, “Jun, I thought you were waiting outside?”

Seungcheol, though, stammers over himself, fumbling for any excuse, “Junhui— that’s, uhm, we’re not, we’re—”

Junhui blinks blankly, then his whole expression drops into a veil of black. “Nevermind that. It’s Chan.”

“W-what?” Jeonghan asks dizzily.

“Chan is in the hospital.”

  


“I don’t understand,” Jeonghan says from beside Minghao’s hospital bed.

“It’s my fault, hyung,” Chan looked sullen from where he sat in the visitor’s chair. His eyes are swollen and skin puffed red with all the crying he’s done. “I was standing there and I should’ve been the one hit by the stage light. Not Minghao hyung. If only he didn’t push me out of the way.” The tears well up again in the boy’s eyes and Chan sobs out, “It’s my all my fault.”

Jeonghan stays unsettlingly quiet, scanning Minghao’s still body. The boy lays unmoving in the hospital bed. His eyes are closed and his face is peaceful. But he lies in a hospital gown, skin covered with bandages. It does nothing to ease the shaking of his fingers, the nausea spreading in his stomach.

Chan is curled into the chair in the corner, tears flowing to no end and eyes swollen and wrinkled from the crying. He’s here, in this room, in one piece. Not hurt physically, maybe psychologically, but Jeonghan will take what is given. And just to give them both a sense of comfort, he says, “Minghao’s not dead, Chan.”

“But he could be!” Chan cries, waving his arms, “He’s just lying there—”

“Because he was medically put to sleep. But he could be, yes. Luckily, Minghao only has two broken ribs and a bruised back. He didn’t bleed out or anything.”

Chan heaves large breaths into his lungs, and Jeonghan forces himself to look away. The sight of his little body, shaking and trembling, squeezing his tears out till he is bone dry, is like a knife dragging its sharp edges slowly into his heart. Just enough to torture his soul.

“I’ll go get Jun. Your leg is in a cast. You should get some rest,” Jeonghan tells him, eyes facing the wall.

“Hyung…”

But Jeonghan is already closing the door behind him. He rests his body against the door, hands trembling. The muscles in his legs feel weak and worn down, despite Jeonghan barely having done nothing but stand today. He can only conceal his emotions so much in front of Chan, who desperately needs him to stay calm. He takes a deep breath, taking several moments to compose himself and walks into the hallway.

He is greeted by the sight of Seungcheol, an unforgiving grip on Junhui’s shoulder, standing menacingly over him despite being slightly shorter.

“What’s going on?”

  


✳✳✳

  


Junhui glares at Seungcheol with swirling dark irises. Even though he has one hand clutching Junhui’s shoulder, shaking him with an abrasive grip, he can feel the anger rising from the younger’s body. It only makes him grow more desperate.

“What’s going on?”

Seungcheol looks to his right to see Jeonghan approaching them with broad strides. He releases his hold on Junhui, stomach doing tumbles. He’s suddenly aware of the weight of his phone in his palm, burning away at his skin.

Hwang Yuna  


**Unknown**

— It is done. Thank you for the help, sunbae.

“Jeonghan, I’m so sorry,” Seungcheol says. His hand clenches weakly at the phone in his hand, the makings of his guilt hidden inside. “It’s all my fault. I didn’t think this would happen.”

“What do you mean? What did you do, Seungcheol?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but are we gonna talk about that kiss scene tho?? please **kudo** / **subscribe** / **comment** !  
>  drop questions or suggestions, dm or ask me here:  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/214YOONS) / [twt](https://twitter.com/214YOONS) @ 214YOONS
> 
> i'm gonna be dropping several bombs in the upcoming chapters, you guys will love it (or hate it depends)  
> anyways i'm reeaaally curious to how you guys are gonna react to these cliffhangers PLEASE leave your comments here ♡♡♡


	8. GAME

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **game.** _noun._ \ ˈgām \  
>  1 a form of play or sport, especially a competitive one played according to rules and decided by skill, strength, or luck.  
> 2 a physical or mental competition conducted according to rules with the participants in direct opposition to each other  
> 3 a strategy (shady scheme) or manipulation of a situation for gaining an end  
>  _synonyms:_ contest, play, tactic, cheat, politics

“What do you mean? What did you do, Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol clenches his fists, “It was the bet. This girl from the dance department said if I could introduce her to the senior director, she could kick Chan off the showcase—”

“You were going to mess with Chan?” The dangerous tone flashes warning signs all over, and Jeonghan’s face turns to stone. His chest inflates with brief spikes of red, fury, then regret flipping inside him.

Seungcheol briefly closes his eyes, features twisting up in regret. “It was what I was thinking at the time. I regret it. It’s not like you weren’t going to mess with Mingyu and Wonwoo.”

“To get to _you_ ,” Jeonghan interrupts.

“Yeah, well, so was I!” Seungcheol yells. His voice carries through the empty hall with the weight of desperation drowning it. Then, the sharpness comes next, laced with quietness even more deadly. “What’s the difference between the way you used my friends and the way I used yours?”

Before Jeonghan gets to yell in protest, to shout at Seungcheol about _who_ exactly he hurt, and why _his_ couldn’t possibly compare to Jeonghan’s, his words are stolen right from his lips.

“He never put any of them in the hospital,” Junhui states from beside them.

The two swivel their attention back towards the younger. Jeonghan had almost forgotten he was standing there. He’d been so fixated on Seungcheol, he had forgotten what had happened.

“What were you doing? Before I got here,” he asks.

Seungcheol looks like he’s ready with another round full of explanations but Junhui beats him to it. “He was trying to convince me not to tell anyone about you two. Intimidate might be a better word though.”

Jeonghan swivels is head back to Seungcheol, eyes full with expectation only to be dimmed. What was he thinking? After months of denying and hiding, when the moment comes that they get caught, Jeonghan shouldn’t have thought otherwise. A Choi is a Choi, and he will always prioritize himself over a Yoon. Jeonghan should’ve known this was what it would lead to all along.

Seungcheol clenches his jaw, gritting out, “I just wanted to make sure he knew what’s important here.”

And that’s what he gets wrong. Because Jeonghan knows Junhui, and he knows that through the money and the parties and the games, Junhui was the person who picked Jeonghan up after he was completely wrecked out of use to even play or bet. And it’s this Junhui that looks like he could foam at the mouth.

Junhui’s eyes storm over with rage, spitting at Seungcheol, “What’s _important_ is that you put two of our friends in the hospital!”

Jeonghan can see it. How Junhui looks ready to _just boil over_. So he pleads with the gentlest voice, “ _Jun_.” Jeonghan touches Junhui’s forearm just barely, one light hand simply resting there. It carries more like a blanket, lightly and gently covering a baby, rather than a quilt wrapping and encompassing like a cage, stifled inside.

Junhui’s eyes do not waver when he looks at Jeonghan, like he’s trying to ask him _are you sure_ with his hard gaze.

Jeonghan stays ever so calm.

Junhui swallows Jeonghan’s answer. It’s not a knot that can be smoothed over. “This is the person you’re choosing?” He barely has the energy to voice this out over his audacity.

“I—” Jeonghan’s eyes dart over to Seungcheol. _Choose?_ Junhui asks him after knowing the scars underneath his skin, it’s worry and makes him reassess like the millions of times he has before. And he doesn’t know if he’s ready to choose anyone. “We’re just sleeping together. It’s nothing big.”

Junhui looks back to Seungcheol instinctively.

Jeonghan unconsciously holds his breath. He knows what the two of them want is different. And Seungcheol tries not to break apart what little there is left: to admit or to deny. The one thing he wants from Jeonghan, the same thing he doesn’t want Junhui to know.

Junhui watches as Seungcheol struggles, the skin against his jaw stretching. He doesn’t want to give himself away, but he also doesn’t want to agree with Jeonghan’s words. The blue veins on his neck appear slowly from under the milky skin. Seungcheol scoffs, “This is a joke.”

“There’s nothing going on.” Jeonghan says again.

And at the same time, Seungcheol overlaps him. “Just don’t tell anyone, Wen Junhui.”

Jeonghan can tell this is just provoking Junhui even more so he gives Seungcheol a warning. “Stop it, Seungcheol. Junhui isn’t that type of person.”

“And how should I trust that? How can you guarantee that he won’t go blabbing to the next person he sees?” Seungcheol points his finger assumingly right into Junhui’s space, much too close for comfort.

Jeonghan’s shoulders grow slack like the energy is seeped right out of him. “Because he’s my friend, Seungcheol.”

“That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

“Excuse me?” Jeonghan reels back, if that could help him see Seungcheol clearer, hear the words he said clearer.

“Because he’s your friend, Jeonghan, I can’t trust him.” Seungcheol shows no sign of doubt, like a man who has believed one thing his whole life and bets on it. “Let’s face it. You guys don’t have the best reputation.”

Jeonghan has a lighter on the tip of his tongue, but yet again, Junhui comes to steal the flame. “You’re not in the position to talk,” he interrupts.

“I said I was sorry!” Seungcheol says, too quick for reflection and too loud to be apologetic. He winces, regret sours along the lines of his face like rotten fruit. In the hospital wing, it carries louder here than anywhere else. Shame enlarges and echoes down the hall.

“Besides,” his eyes trail off, a bit darker and subtle than before, “it’s nothing compared to what you guys have done.”

It replays in her head, those last seconds. The defiance and reflection. Jeonghan’s face slowly grows dark. Trepidation drips from his tensed shoulders and fisted hands.

“What we have done?” Jeonghan asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve ruined lives. Dozens of them. Not just kids but also adults. Remember Jung Soojung?” Seungcheol clearly sees their reactions. Jeonghan’s downcast eyes, his curling fingers. Despite that, he continues fearlessly, “She sat in your little Roulette table second year, and then you told everyone how her sister was dating the second year math teacher. Sooyeon just graduated just the year before so of course, the school administration would fire Mr. Hong. Their parents sent Sooyeon abroad.”

_Jung Soojung. Pretty face, long luscious hair, that lith little body, and biting words that only misguided little girls learn from cruel women._

A moment passes, silence haunting the halls. Then, after a while, Jeonghan asks in a small voice, stubborn yet firm, “And?” His eyes are still downcast.

“ _You made them send Sooyeon to foreign country_ — and after she was accepted into KAIST with flying scores. Everyone knew that KAIST was Sooyeon’s dream school. Even worse was what you did to Soojung. She spent the whole semester being outcasted, humiliated, and miserable.”

_Jung Soojung, miserable. In the hallways looking like a lost little duckling while people stared at her, whispered in each other’s ears as they pointed their beady eyes right at her. Jeonghan looked on, head tilted and felt no pity. This Soojung, and the Soojung last week who gleamed her hungry black eyes, looked up at Jeonghan’s boyfriend and asked “what do you like about Jeonghan?” Why should Jeonghan feel pity?_

And even though Seungcheol stands, prim overcoat and fitted turtleneck, his eyes are ablaze with wildness. “How can you stand there and judge me when you guys have done so much worse?”

Jeonghan’s face is fully tucked away from view. His voice shakes with a grit to each syllable as he mumbles, “What do you know... what would you know about us...” Jeonghan looks back up, a fire lighting him from the inside out. “Every one of them deserved it. They knew what they were doing, they should’ve expected it.”

Light fingertips ghost on Jeonghan’s knuckles. He almost forgets, again, Junhui’s soft touch reminds him that he has a friend beside him. They share a long look, then Jeonghan glances down. Junhui’s fingers, boyishly shaped and bones thick around his joints, fist around all of Jeonghan’s as they give a slight squeeze.

Jeonghan’s hit with surprise and a sudden fondness for his friend. Wen Junhui is someone who comes and goes as he wishes. He’s rich, impulsive, and troublesome. Junhui isn’t someone who’s often serious, not when it comes to his neglectful parents nor when he went to rehab. But the fierceness on Junhui’s face right now... he’s only seen it once before — right before he broke up with Jaehyun.

Everything rushes back all at once. Not just Jaehyun but everyone else. Every single person who has mistaken him, taken him for granted, used him. It’s a flood of hurt and regret that has finally become too strong to ignore, and it has broken past the dam that Seungcheol built over these past months. _The Soojung then, and Soojung a week later, there was no difference. Time had simply just passed but the person stayed the same._ All the feelings that he’s kept back, everything that’s been suppressed in his phase of pretending. It’s the same reason why he’s been trying to break it off, the thought that kept nudging at him. But this time, betrayal and hurt overpowers so much more than Jeonghan’s infatuated feelings before.

Jeonghan didn’t expect Seungcheol to understand. He shouldn’t have. But it still hurt. And now it has affected more than just himself, but also others. Minghao. Chan.

“That’s right,” Jeonghan admits. “We twist, and destroy, and manipulate. But that was the kind of person you wanted to keep by your side, right? Suddenly, you’ve finally realized it? The kind of person I really am.”

It dawns on Seungcheol. “No—”

“Then you shouldn’t have started. You should’ve known your place,” Jeonghan bares no guilt watching Seungcheol’s face wilts and the flood of everything they've built encompasses them, finally crumbling down, “Instead of getting mixed up with a bunch of twisted fucks like us.” Only rage is left on these ravaged plains.

Jeonghan has made up his mind. “Don’t worry though. You won’t have to be involved anymore. And then no one will know.” He doesn’t get the satisfaction of watching Seungcheol break silently at the sight of his diminishing back, but he promises to himself, soon, he will.

_You want to play games, Choi Seungcheol? Then, let’s play._

 

“I’m sorry, Jun.”

Jeonghan sits staring blankly in the visitor's couch, staring out of Minghao’s hospital window. After coming back from the argument with Seungcheol, Jeonghan sat unsettlingly still, shuffling his positions ever so often restlessly. He gravitated around Chan, never stepping too far from him as the younger slouched into the stiff chair in his deep slumber. And up until now, he’d been strangely quiet. Junhui wonders if Jeonghan knows what he is apologizing for.

“You couldn’t have seen it coming, hyung. Don’t apologize.”

“I’ll make sure they pay,” Jeonghan says, chest full of dark intent. “I’ll make sure they all pay.”

And it’s not that Junhui hadn’t had the same thought. His mind raged through all the millions of options to ruin, destruct the people who had Minghao strapped into this very bed. But looking at Jeonghan now, he’s sure they have different ideas. Because this time, he’s not sure if he’s up for the ride.

Junhui looks over Minghao’s still body, his chest rising and falling normally as he sleeps peacefully. But underneath it, he knows there are red and purple splotches, bandages and stitches. Somehow, it’s not the same anymore. His priorities have changed.

But whether or not he participates, there’s one thing Junhui is sure of, and it’s that Jeonghan is willing to do anything for Chan.

 

✳✳✳

 

The following week, Jeonghan meets up with a fellow senior in the literature department.

“What is he doing?”

Dokyeom leans his body slightly off frame from Junhui’s, hiding behind him but also curious as to what’s happening. Soonyoung peeks his head out from behind Dokyeom’s shoulder like a pair of eavesdropping kids. They look around cluelessly since it’s their first time in the humanities building, following after Jeonghan and Junhui here like curious ducklings.

They watch as Jeonghan stands, showing the senior girl something on his phone. They look immersed in conversation as it’s been at least five minutes since they’ve been standing there. Jeonghan had marched on the way here with determination. His stride was one of conclusion. Junhui knew it from the many plans they’ve hatched during high school, and they many confrontations they’ve had in hallways.

“It’s something bad,” Junhui replies with danger reflecting in his eyes.

 

✳✳✳

 

**GANGNAM GIRL**  
@GN_GOSSIP ∙ 10 dec 2018  
So something interesting happened at a party last night, huh? Do I smell a new girlfriend for dear cousin H?

[ ](https://data.whicdn.com/images/303903927/original.jpg)

**322** replies ∙ **2.7K** retweets ∙ **4.5K** likes

**solbin**  
@s_binnie ∙ 5h  
thought him and his bff were unseparable for good sec

 **41** replies ∙ **763** retweets ∙ **1.2K** likes

**yerin**  
@sb_rin ∙ 1h ∙ replying to @s_binnie  
oh shush.... wtf

 **6** replies ∙ **12** retweets ∙ **14** likes

**chaeyoung**  
@chaeng ∙ 4h  
we have a new campus couple~ !! congratulations~~ 

**2** replies ∙ **23** retweets ∙ **35** likes

**naeun**  
@LEEnaeun ∙ 3h   
wait... isn't that lee j***h (Skull )(Skull )

**56** replies ∙ **1K** retweets ∙ **2.1K** likes

**soyeon**  
@jeonyeon ∙ 52m  
my question is where is she putting her hand? (Eyes ) or is this an optical illusion? 

**8** replies ∙ **58** retweets ∙ **61** likes

 

✳✳✳

 

Jeonghan

Joshua

Junhui

Seungkwan

Chan

Dokyeom

Soonyoung

Minghao

Jeonghan and his Snakes (Snake )

**Dokyeom**

— so is anybody going to talk about what’s been going on? 

**Seungkwan**

— are we on a ban from hanging out with seungcheol hyung’s friends or?? 

**Soonyoung**

— yeah shua and jun hyung what’s up? 

**Joshua**

— you know i don't get involved in things like this :) 

**Junhui**

— it's complicated right now ok? 

**Chan**

— ... 

**Dokyeom**

— what chan? 

—  but woah if jun hyung says it’s complicated then something must be up 

**Soonyoung**

— yeah you haven’t even been talking to wonwoo and you guys hit it off great! 

**Minghao**

— you're not talking to wonwoo, jun hyung? what’s wrong? did something happen? 

**Junhui**

— nothing’s going on 

**Soonyoung**

— you replied quite fast for something that’s isn’t going on 

**Junhui**

— oh you know, the choi's and yoon's are at it again. 

**Dokyeom**

— which is fine. the usual. 

— you know, besides the fact that we're all FRIENDS now 

— i need to talk to my same aged-friend mingyu. i miss him :'( 

**Seungkwan**

— we've been on egg shells. i don't know what to do anymore, talk or not talk 

**Soonyoung**

— lol def not you kwan

— if anything, you've gotten clingier

**Seungkwan**

—  i have not!! (Face With Look Of Triumph )

**Joshua**

— soonyoung... read between the lines please... ㅜㅜㅜ 

 

✳✳✳

 

The ground of the floor during winter days on campus keep more students indoors and away from the freezing cold. There aren’t many ways for both groups to interact since they’re all in different departments, but on the days where grey clouds fill up the sky, trees sway violently, and the outside smells of wet pavement and grass, no one can say no to eating at the cafeteria.

Seungcheol spots Jeonghan’s group walking past them and calls out. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he smirks, all traces of the fight in the hospital unnoticeable. As if nothing happened at all. That’s really all he wishes for. For them to revert back to the old days and pretend things haven’t gotten complicated.

Seungcheol’s smile freezes picture perfect under Junhui’s scrutinizing eyes, washing over him like a cold shower. Seungcheol pretends he doesn’t feel it at all. Like these past weeks haven’t been a game of push and pull, like a child’s play of tug of war. If Seungcheol spots Jeonghan and his cronies, by Seungcheol’s friends, in a restaurant, at the bar, on campus and outside his car window, anywhere, and he makes a snarky comment. Business as usual. The thing is, it feels like Seungcheol keeps pulling and pulling, and the rope keeps getting longer and longer in his hands, and Seungcheol’s afraid one of these days he’s going to be holding the end of the rope and Jeonghan won’t be there on the other side anywhere.

“You don’t even go to this school, Choi. Why are you sitting in _our_ cafeteria,” Jeonghan’s tone is bland like bread went stale.

Seungcheol drapes his arm over the shoulder of his chair. “Didn’t know the Yoons owned land here. I’m just visiting. I’ve never tasted cafeteria food. I should get acquainted since I’m going to come here for grad school, shouldn’t I?”

Jeonghan places his tray down onto their table for a second, and he leans down right into Seungcheol’s face. His smile is like something you’d expect from a villain in a movie, playful and perfect, yet cold-blooded underneath all that beauty. “You should probably stay away from me, Choi. After all, I have a pretty bad reputation.”

Seungcheol stills, every second passing slowly. Even cold and unresponsive, Seungcheol can only notice Jeonghan’s light mole, his wide hooded eyes.

Jeonghan picks his tray back up, grinning from ear to ear, and backs away.

Seungkwan is obviously distraught over whether to sit next to his boyfriend or not as he looks back and forth from Jeonghan to Hansol. He tentatively places his tray next to Hansol’s seat, eyes big and round, glistening with a pout towards Jeonghan’s way. But Jeonghan does not turn to look at him or beck him away.

Instead, Jeonghan’s eyes slide past all of Seungcheol’s friends with a blue hue of indifference. And when it was Seungcheol’s turn, the space between them seemed to slow, Seungcheol catching the way Jeonghan’s hair ruffled as his head turned past him. The frosty emptiness of his eyes made Seungcheol’s cheeks redden from the cold, temperature dropping as Jeonghan breezed past without so much of a conciliatory glance.

The rest of his group follows like a line of ducklings, Soonyoung and Dokyeom comically throwing sheepish smiles and waves.

Then Chan stops short in front of Seungcheol’s seat. He holds his stare on Seungcheol, eyes unblinking in a sort of defiant challenge, _a warning,_ it seems more like. It’s such an unfitting sight on Chan.

 _He can surprise you sometimes. He’s young but he’s so sure about himself. He loves dancing, and he’s crazy ambitious,_ Jeonghan had once said.

Seungcheol wonders if this is what Jeonghan sees in the 19 year-old boy, someone fresh and playful but at the right times can also be serious. A serious settlement. So much so that Chan has the courage to glare at him without restraint and without comment.

How Chan would know anything, and how much he poses a threat, Seungcheol isn’t aware. Something about that makes his skin crawl.

 

✳✳✳

 

**hansol chwe**  
@chwenotchoi ∙ 13 dec 2018  
good vibes with good people  
photo by @lee_jinah

[ ](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/57/b5/13/57b513a12afbb3116a9808a96b859d88.jpg) [ ](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b9/28/a2/b928a26aef476c27ddfb6d4bc71e2a3a.jpg)

**65** replies ∙ **1.2K** retweets ∙ **2.3K** likes

 

✳✳✳

 

“Ah, exam week may have sucked up the campus energy, but this place is certainly thriving.” Joshua breathes in the fresh air, sticking onto Jeonghan’s side as Jeonghan, Junhui, Seungkwan, and him walk around Jahayeon Pond.

“The leaves are dead, hyung.” Seungkwan says bleary-eyed.

The three other boys peek around each other and exchange grimaces. Seungkwan has been in a mood these days, so when Jeonghan mentioned heading to the eatery by Jahayeon Pond, Joshua nodded enthusiastically to get Seungkwan’s dapper mood going.

Junhui throws a worried glance back at them then swivels forward. “Ahh,” he groans, stretching his long legs exaggeratedly along the side of the pond, crunching on the leaves with the soles of his feet. It makes good for a mood maker replacement.

The group snicker at him for his nutcracker walk imitation. Junhui cries out, arms up in celebration of arriving at the eatery, bursting to the nearest empty table which earns another round of chuckles. Junhui has never been one for the long walks required to get around the campus.

“Wait for us,” Joshua shouts to him as they take long strides to catch up.

Junhui is already throwing his bag onto the table haphazardly when they reach him. Then his eyes light up, catching something over their shoulders. “Oh, isn’t that—”

But it isn’t a something. It’s a someone — and that someone is Hansol.

Hansol standing by the building exit, engrossed in a conversation with Lee Jinah. Everyone turns to look. Everyone except Jeonghan, who gives a half-hearted twist to glance at them.

Lee Jinah is a senior literature major, top of her department and known for her self-started succession program. And she is ‘it’ girl of this week’s gossip, specifically, if she’s Hansol’s new girl now. And so far, nothing about this scene disproves the rumors.

Each person can feel the apprehension from the side, where Seungkwan stands. They all tense up as they turn their eyes to him. It’s not as if they didn’t know what was the cause of Seungkwan’s constant snappy mood and sunken states of quiet. Seungkwan is the mood maker of the group and they can all see Seungkwan’s sullen eyes, the way his baby face has lost its fresh sheen. He’s still young and round-faced as ever, but these days Seungkwan just seems like your average exam-stressed college student, a bit more mature, a bit more grounded. All the things Seungkwan usually doesn’t show.

“Oh, Seungkwan,” Joshua calls ever so sweetly and brushes the boy’s arm in reassurance.

Jeonghan looks away from the sight but catches Junhui glowering at him, eyes narrowed in a perceptive stare.

So he figured it out.

The reason to why Jeonghan suggested going to this eatery by Jahayeon Pond wasn’t by coincidence. To get to the eatery, you must cross Jahayeon Pond. And the eatery is right next to the humanities building, ever so convenient for literature majors like Jinah, whose second most frequented spot is exactly there.

They all watch as Hansol spots the group, his mouth forming the first syllables of Seungkwan’s name, but Jinah places a gentle hand on his arm, mouth running as she’s cluelessly absorbed into their conversation. And like that, Hansol’s eyes are back on her. Hansol spares them one more nervous glance, Seungkwan’s grip on his backpack stiffens, then Hansol bites on his lower lip, brows furrowing before turning to follow Jinah into the eatery.

Joshua reaches out for the younger again. “Seungkwan—”

But Seungkwan ducks his head down, face hidden in hair but Jeonghan can see how his fist clenches, the stiffening of his knees before they bend and he makes a run for it, down the stairs and away from the courtyard.

There’s a moment of silence, just the sound of leaves rustling around them as the boys watch Seungkwan wild and careless running. His figure gets smaller and smaller, and the distance between them becomes wider and wider.

“You’ve done it.” Junhui says, back to him. His head whips towards Jeonghan, pupils slitted and nostrils flaring,  “You got what you’ve always wanted. You’ve just smashed Seungkwan’s only remaining confidence into pieces.”

Jeonghan blinks, forehead lines wrinkling, lips stretching thin. An uncomfortable feeling settles inside him, his gut telling him _something’s going to happen, something sick._

Junhui exhales deeply, like a guardian deeply disappointed in their child. The disappointment hits Jeonghan in the chest and seeps into his bones.

“You stop this,” Junhui asserts. Serious is a deathly look on him.

But all Jeonghan does is quirk a brow, placing a pretty little smile on his lips. His voice drips with a mockery of sweetness and innocence. “Stop what?”

“This!” Junhui yells, pointing in the direction that Seungkwan stormed in, “Whatever games you’re trying to play with Seungcheol — you better stop it.”

Jeonghan keeps his gaze steady on Junhui’s face, not once looking over to where he’s pointing.

And Joshua stands there, one foot shuffled a little in between them, eyes moving from Jeonghan and Junhui nervously. “Uhm, you guys—”

“And what is so bad about it?” Jeonghan says, bold and quiet but too loud between them, the golden trio of boys. “I’m just trying to help him. When it’s all over, Seungkwan will thank me. You saw it yourself, how Hansol has reacted.”

Junhui shakes his head, “You’re hurting them, Jeonghan. Both of them.”

 _That’s the point_. _So that Seungcheol sees how they hurt._ But Jeonghan doesn’t say that. His jaw snaps shut. He reigns it in, the anger and betrayal, and wills his face off of any emotion, eyes going dull. Junhui has never cared about Seungkwan or about anyone. _Junhui_ has always been the one to jump headfirst into Jeonghan’s plans with him.

“Why are you so worked up, Jun? It’s just another game. Relax.”

“It’s not a game!” Junhui’s fist slams against the table with a loud smack, startling Jeonghan and Joshua. “Seungkwan and Chan and Minghao — they’re not games!”

“Don’t you dare, Wen Junhui,” Jeonghan warns. Chan is his responsibility. He will decide what’s good for them. “I said I’ll make it right, Junhui. And I will.”

“Not like this, Jeonghan,” Junhui says, “You’ll only get more people hurt.”

Jeonghan settles his eyes on Junhui’s. “They’ve already _been_ hurt. I’m only paying it back like I always do, like _we’ve_ always done.”

Joshua eyes Jeonghan, deep with worry. “Jeonghan-ah..”

But he doesn’t need it. Jeonghan doesn’t need worry, so will they _stop looking at him like that_.

Junhui’s shoulders slump helplessly. If Wen Junhui knew how to beg, Jeonghan had no doubt he would get onto his knees and clasp both hands together right now.

“This time you can’t...” Junhui takes a deep breath like he’s readying himself, like he’s been keeping this in for a _long long time_. “I love him. I love Minghao.”

Both Jeonghan and Joshua look at him like they’ve been struck on the head, stars in their eyes.

“And I don't want to involve him in your games,” Junhui says, overcome with.... _compassion_.

Junhui has never been compassionate. This—this Junhui... this Junhui is someone Jeonghan doesn’t recognize.

“Love?” Jeonghan scoffs lightly, tinting with skepticism. His lips curl, chest puffing like he’s on the verge of laughing. “What do you know about love, Junhui?”

Wen Junhui, who lures girls with stars in their eyes, crushes in their hearts, into his bed and talks sweetly with white powder and a heated spoon — he waits with a needle in his hand and his foot on the pedal. _In love?_ There is no such thing here. No, he must be mistaken.

But Junhui does not say anything back. His face is a slate of seriousness.

Jeonghan swallows.

Wen Junhui, who thinks of himself as his own king, who introduced this dainty teenager with a cheery voice _Xu Minghao_ , who curls his hand into the dainty boy’s waist and talks to him with honey in his voice (Junhui’s thumb brushes against Minghao’s, gentle and horribly familiar like someone he knows) — he is the one with stars in his eyes now.

Wen Junhui has fallen in love.

“You can’t,” Jeonghan says. And he can feel it in his throat, how much it wants to tremble.

“And why not, Jeonghan? Because _we_ don’t belong with _them?_ Tell me, Han.”

“—Yes.” Jeonghan answers, quick and sharp like a knife against his throat.

“Or is it because you’re scared?” Junhui’s voice grows stronger, nastier, like a demon in his ears. “Is it because you think you love him and you’re afraid he won’t love you back. Or _worse_ —he does love you back.”

“ _What_ is going on?” Joshua asks, loud and overwhelmed. “Is this about Jaehyun? Jeonghan did he b—”

“ _No,_ ” Jeonghan says before anything else can be said.

Jeonghan can only hear how blood rushes in his ears, like tremendous waves crashing against rocks. He feels just as scared as Joshua looks, where he stands afraid to touch his two arguing friends. This is serious, Jeonghan realizes, noticing the way Joshua has both his feet planted steadily onto the ground like he needs to brace for something. Like the three of them are bracing for something.

Jeonghan and Junhui look like they’re about to engage in a duel, two of them across each other like it’s the start of _a fight to the death_. The two hold their stares, Joshua cast aside. The courtyard is silent with nothing but wind in their ears.

Then, Junhui drags his backpack off the table and swings it over his shoulder. He’s a few feet away from Jeonghan, but it feels like he’s standing much too close.

“Keep playing games, Jeonghan. He’ll never love you. That’s what you want, right?”

Junhui walks off, backpack dangling and leaves the wind howling into Jeonghan’s ears.

 

✳✳✳

 

Being without Jeonghan should be like living his old life. Except it’s not. Seungcheol goes about his day, going through the motions. But he tries not to feel the ugly nudging inside that something is fundamentally _wrong_.

Most days, every hour, he feels like a mindless doll. He goes through the motions. He wakes up, brushes his teeth, heads to C Group to start on the new tasks or challenges his father insists on giving him, checks his messages, meets up with his friends to have lunch, goes back to work, then heads back home, occasionally switching lunchtime for dinner time with his friends.

And some days, it’s different. Some days, when Seungcheol gets to eat lunch with his friends, he can meet Jeonghan. But even those days, he’s far away, he only bares to look at the other for a second or two. It’s worse because exam week has ended and the excuses to see Jeonghan pile up without reason. Despite this, it seems Jeonghan always catches his eyes, like he knows Seungcheol’s gaze, Seungcheol’s presence is near him. And that just makes everything worse.

His delusions feast heavily those days. Because the following days afterward, Jeonghan would haunt him like an unrelenting demon of his dreams.

Seungcheol dreams in the daylight. Seungcheol dreams with his eyes open, and Jeonghan is everywhere.

He sees Jeonghan behind his eyelids. When he’s sitting in his car, holding onto the wheel, and he tries not to think about the time Jeonghan had sat in his lap, face buried in his chest, body against his and warmth being shared. The worst part is, it’s not even about sex. He sees Jeonghan when he’s eating breakfast or when he’s on his couch, and he remembers how Jeonghan use to sit there on the counter pushing his food around or stare up at him on the floor with his wild, dazed eyes. He sees Jeonghan as he’s looking at documents, thinking of computer class in high school, sitting two rows diagonal from him, Jeonghan catching him glancing at him, eyes widening, twinkling in under the lights, and sometimes his lips twitched, blinking as he jerked his head to face his computer, the apples of his cheeks flushed, spotted with dots of pink.

Every time Seungcheol remembers those moments, his soul becomes more and more grey, losing life and color.

Empty.

They weren’t dating, they weren’t anything, yet Seungcheol is a heartbroken fool.

 

✳✳✳

 

Seungcheol overhears it by accident. He’s outside of Hansol’s bedroom door, about to tell him that auntie wanted them to help her with some holiday decorating. But then he hears it, a sort of half sob, the one that you hold back in your throat, but it comes out anyway. The sound was faint and scratchy, kind of like it was filtered through a block of some kind.

So Seungcheol pulls his hand back, one inch away from knocking on wood, as he uses his fingertips to ever so slightly crack the door open, mere centimeters needed. But it comes out all quite clear as his feet staple to the ground when he hears Hansol’s next words.

“What do you mean by that? What Seungkwan? I’m not _cheating_ on you!”

Seungkwan’s voice comes out loud and clear over the receiver. He’s angry, clearly, and his throat sounds raw, like it’s been overused or the boy had been wailing for a long time.

_“I’m not the one going around with some pretty girl, who’s smart and has accomplished so much more than I ever have or ever will. Who am I? Just some son of a noraebang owner. Your house is probably more than what any of my ancestors, all of them from existence_ ** _combined_** , could ever make!” 

Hansol sighs. The sound flutters through the room, through the crack of the door, all soft and adoring. Even though Hansol is worried, even through a small sigh, you could hear how much the boy loves Seungkwan.

“Now why would you say that, Boo? You know how much you mean to me. You’re funny, and smart — don’t interrupt me this time — and you have a wonderful voice that your people love to listen to.”

There’s a deep sigh. Seungkwan, resigned and given up.

_“Everyone thinks I got the lead DJ spot because I sit at the Roulette table.”_

“Boo...” Hansol once again sighed. “You know that’s not true.”

_“But do I really? Let’s face it. I’m not particularly handsome like everyone else, I’m only funny because I act a little obnoxious and do gags. It won’t last me in the long-run. And even you—one day, you’re going to have had enough. Move onto more real things—”_

“Seungkwan, stop. Stop this _please,”_ Hansol sounds desperate. More desperate than Seungcheol has ever heard. Hansol is probably beyond this door, standing in the middle of his room, one hand at the back of his head, tugging at his hair like he does when he’s frustrated.

_“It’s true!”_

Seungkwan’s voice begins to stutter again through the phone, it catches on itself, hiccups resounding as Seungcheol imagines tears dropping off of the boy’s face on the other side of the line.

He thinks of when they were rushing to the hospital when Jeonghan drove wildly through the streets. How his eyes glistened the whole time and how he held them up all the way to the check-in. One tear dropping when he saw Chan with own eyes, unharmed except for a cast on his leg.

He can imagine, but Seungcheol doesn’t think he could come close to how Hansol feels.

Seungcheol stares at the cream painted door, useless as Seungkwan’s sobs travel to him.

_“It’s true because that’s why you haven’t said anything about our relationship, isn’t it? Just even a little thing like you’re dating someone else. But you don’t even do that. It’s because you don’t want me.”_

“I want you, Seungkwan! I love you.... Boo, please. Just, give me some more time. I swear, just until I get into the program, okay?”

Seungkwan’s sniffles a little too close to the receiver, creating noisy static, as his voice wavers.

_“I don’t know, Hansol. I’m just so confused. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”_

Seungcheol’s body shocks him back to life. His limbs no longer stiffen up, like the can feel his blood flowing belatedly to his head, heart beating fast like it’s trying to catch up for lost time. He takes a step back, almost stumbling on the carpeted floors, but luckily Seungcheol catches himself. He has heard too much now. And before Seungcheol intrudes again, his ears listening to conversations he was never meant to know, he scuttles down the hall for the stairs.

 

✳✳✳

 

Seungcheol sees it. He sees how Hansol lights up, the corners of his mouth stretching endlessly when he talks about the chance of being able to join the humanities department success program. The program involves innovative and creative tasks that challenge the user and builds up their portfolio. Every person so far involved has gone on to be a part of greater things.

The boy meets with him or their group for lunch and the first thing out of his mouth is _Lee Jinah sunbae-nim said—_ usually followed by how much she liked his work, how _his mind is god’s crafted masterpiece_ , and she’s _been waiting for a boy like him to come along._ And Hansol soaks this all up, like a plant growing taller, lusher, and greener with every compliment he’s given. He radiates the happiness of a warm sunny day those times.

And other times, his eyes dim.

His cousin’s familiar warm brown pools like a favorite sweater become merely a dull ugly shade of dead leaves on the pavement. And in those times, Seungcheol can see the reflection of Seungkwan in his eyes. Hansol clams up, just stares longingly at his boyfriend across the room.

Sometimes, the group enters a restaurant they’re at by chance, spots them, and heads back to the exit. But when they’re seated at the same restaurant by chance, Seungcheol witnesses it first hand. Hansol would take glances at the other boy, then swivel back with guilt on his frowning lips, moving food around emptily, dragging his fork back and forth and back and forth over the porcelain. Seungcheol knows, he’s no longer there with the group when he’s staring down blankly at his plate.

The two are no longer on speaking terms. _He said he needed space, hyung. What does that even mean? What about us?_ Seungcheol saw the way Hansol’s eyes filled up with every question that he asked Seungcheol, seeking advice, seeking answers to questions even his older cousin couldn’t help him with. That frustrates Seungcheol so much. That his little cousin is being tormented but Seungcheol can do nothing but watch his family suffer.

And despite this, even though Hansol loves Seungkwan, Hansol knows that Lee Jinah finds pretty, handsome boys like him with peculiar minds attractive. And Hansol desperately wants to get into the program.

So Hansol says nothing, to the gossip around them nor to Seungkwan. Hansol is a pacifist, not a fighter. He doesn’t know how to fight for something, to want something so much, and to feel rage against everyone who spreads gossip just for fun.

It is in silence, chaos festers.

Seungcheol is there every time Hansol wants to wait on the corner of the social sciences building to hope to catch even a small glimpse of Seungkwan. Hansol waits, snow dropping onto his eyelashes, frostbitten nose, shivering in the freezing temperature even through three layers of clothes. He rolls on the balls of his feet, tip-toeing, hoping to see even the backside of the person he loves most.

And he knows that this is exactly what Jeonghan wants.

Seungcheol knows that there is no way that suddenly, Hansol had been put on Lee Jinah’s radar because she’s renowned for her tunnel vision and devotes herself to only the people around her. Never outside. And when things like these happen, when people who have never been noticed before suddenly become noticed, suddenly become a _somebody_ , it is never _just_ coincidence. It is Jeonghan. Plain and simple.

But Seungcheol doesn’t make fun of Hansol, doesn’t urge him inside from the snow, doesn’t scold his reckless actions. It’s Seungcheol that suggests to pick Hansol up. It’s Seungcheol who asks to go to lunch together. It’s Seungcheol that drives to a school he doesn’t attend on a heavily snowing day because he knows how Hansol feels. Because while Hansol waits with a burning nose, Seungcheol waits with splotches of reddened skin on his cheeks, he waits huffing into his scarf, eyes peeled to the building doors because he doesn’t even want to lose the chance of a glimpse — a glimpse of even the backside that person, the person that he... that he.....

 

✳✳✳

 

Seungcheol dreams a lot these days.

Under his closed eyes, he can hear Mingyu whispering to Wonwoo who whispers to Jihoon.

“Is there something wrong with him? Do you think his dad is like .... being harsher or something?”

Jihoon’s voice floats towards him, “I think it’s something else. I think.....”

There’s silence for a while.

“No,” Jihoon continues, “he’ll share it with us when he wants to.”

Seungcheol sighs, shifting on the couch to face the ceiling. Light floods beneath his eyelids.

He drifts here and there, in between a space where real life passes by something like a dream, hazy yet focused at the same time. He dreams of Jeonghan, sometimes things that have happened yet in a different ending.

Jeonghan sits on his kitchen counter, wearing Seungcheol’s hoodie, and he eats food from Seungcheol’s fridge. Jeonghan coming out the shower, flushed cheeks from the steam, letting Seungcheol lean in and press a kiss onto his lips because he looks so pretty and smells like Seungcheol’s. Jeonghan lays in Seungcheol’s bed, wrapping himself in Seungcheol’s arms. The moon rises and leaves, greeting the sun. Jeonghan stays, heavy double-lidded eyes blinking at him in the morning. And he wakes up.

Seungcheol thinks it’s what his mind wants to see. Things he wishes. Because it hurts to know he won’t get to see how Jeonghan’s eyes turn soft, the smile curling on his lips, mischievous not in the way everyone is used to. No, it’s this childlike mischief like a child who’s amused by a small thing. This other side that shocks Seungcheol, sudden like flipping a coin.

The worst part is that the dreams are always good. Seungcheol’s dreams are not nightmares, and that’s what makes them nightmares. Knowing that these dreams are what Seungcheol wants the most but will never happen. His soul travels in the land of limbo between heaven and hell.

 

✳✳✳

 

_“You have_ **_one_ ** _new messages.”_

_“S-seunngcheol. You-you bastardd. I hate you! I hate you s-so much right now.”_ A hiccup. _“You’re suppoossed to understand, to undersstand me, Choi Seungcheol! Why’d you—why did you have to fuck it up! Huh?! And I just can’t—”_

There’s a sound of dry heaving coming from the receiver, scratching loud breaths like their mouth was right against the mic.

_“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you...”_

There’s silence. No heavy breathing, no loud crying. But a remainder background noise plays, something similar to a restaurant or a bar, clanging of drinks, laughter and chatter that continues. Then a loud click.

_“There are_ **_no more_ ** _messages.”_

  


Chan is stopped short when a car swerves into one of the sidewalk parking spots and blocks the road. Out comes Seungcheol, slamming the driver’s door and storming towards them.

Chan wants to take several steps back but he’s already got his hands full with the stumbling Jeonghan in his arms.

“Let me—”

Seungcheol grabs Jeonghan by one of his arms, but Chan just pushes his arm and any close limbs off of Jeonghan, holding the older closer to him. Seungcheol stumbles back from the force of the push, looking up to see the disgust and anger displayed all over Chan’s face. He watches Chan wrap his right arm against Jeonghan’s whole back and hold him beside his ribs, to which Jeonghan groans and practically wraps himself on top of Chan, still shorter despite his few past years of growth.

“Let me help, Chan,” Seungcheol pleads, empty fists grappling at the air.

Chan turns away from him, wrapping Jeonghan closer to him like he was trying to hide Jeonghan behind him, and although struggling, he still spits, “We don’t need it.”

Seungcheol puts one foot forward again. “Jeonghan’s apartment is far away.”

“I’ll call a taxi,” Chan quips back, eyes resolute into not meeting his.

There’s a clear air of defiance from the younger, and Seungcheol can’t comprehend the sudden hostile attitude against him, though he could understand where it was coming from if it was Jeonghan. Chan is bright, fresh, and nice like the scent of flowers blooming on the first day of spring. He never held anything against Seungcheol even when Jeonghan and Seungcheol were feuding on his weeks back. So Seungcheol doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly acting like a disciple of Jeonghan, going blindly with his actions and against his enemies.

“You think you carry him all the way up? With that?”

Chan follows Seungcheol’s line of sight to his leg that is in a walking cast. Walking casts are used to support but not be leaned on. The boy’s knees were already caving in a little bit from the weight and all the shuffling Jeonghan had been doing.

He shuffles, puffs his cheeks and props Jeonghan up again. Still staying in the same spot.

Seungcheol sighs, arms gesturing uselessly. “I’m just trying to help, Chan.” And Chan’s eyes hesitate for a moment, so he tries again. “Please.”

Jeonghan groans again on his shoulder, head lolling off Chan’s shoulder and mumbling loudly out nonsense, “This dumb....cherry......shitty fucker!!....hate him....ugh.”

Huffing and rolling his eyes, Chan grunts out a stubborn, “Fine.” He hands Seungcheol half of the body in his arms to support.

Seungcheol gently places Jeonghan into the back seats and leaves the door open. Chan stares when Seungcheol just stands there, holding onto the frame of the door. Seungcheol jerks to the back seats, signaling Chan to get in.

With a stuttered scoff, Chan scrambles in. “I-I knew that, I’m getting in.”

  


After rolling Jeonghan into his bed without little fuss, he seemed to have fallen asleep in the car, Seungcheol reaches to shrug him out of his coat. When he reaches for Jeonghan’s jeans, his hands are batted away.

“I’ll do it.” Chan bumps him to the side, unbuttoning Jeonghan’s pants. “I can take it from here.”

Seungcheol stands useless, feeling strange in Jeonghan’s bedroom as he watches Chan undress an unconscious Jeonghan.

Chan takes one glance at him then goes back to work at positioning Jeonghan’s body under the covers. “You can go now,” he grunts out as he tries to move Jeonghan up on the bed. Chan groans, wiggling his foot that’s in a cast around in a circle to relieve the pressure.

“Let me help. You’ll end up hurting yourself like that.” Seungcheol takes Chan’s place and swiftly aligns Jeonghan’s body in the center, throwing the duvet over him with ease.

Seungcheol steps back, sighing and takes in his work. Jeonghan looks so peaceful. His face without a drop of worry or stress as he slumbers, chest rising and falling under the covers. But still, Seungcheol notices the faint heaviness under his eyes. The sunken color puts a deep ache in his chest.

He thinks of Jeonghan’s voicemail and wonders if it’s him, if Jeonghan has been spending nights alone — vodka to his chest, slumped onto the floor, cheek against the couch just like he does at Seungcheol’s. Does Jeonghan spend hours staring at nothing, cursing at himself, cursing at the world, and in misery just like Seungcheol does? He’d like to think that Jeonghan has it as hard as him, but at the same time, he wishes Jeonghan didn’t. He wishes Jeonghan would look like this at night, blissfully in slumber, dead to the world with his pink cheeks and slow breathing.

When he looks back up, Chan is staring intently at him, mouth pressed in silence but with eyes that bellows ten times louder than the quiet.

“What is it?” Seungcheol asks.

The intensity of Chan’s eyes dull over. Then, with a deep pensiveness, he asks, “Do you like my hyung?”

Seungcheol pulls back. “Huh?”

“Jeonghan hyung. You have feelings for him,” Chan says. It’s not a question now but a statement.

Seungcheol deliberates what he should say: to admit or to deny? But Seungcheol wouldn’t have spent sleepless night after sleepless night, hours spacing out in his car, blankly staring at his computer during office hours if he didn’t already know. He wouldn’t have raced all the way over, driving past all the popular bars and restaurants that he knows Jeonghan and the Roulettes like to frequent, all because of one twenty-second voicemail if he couldn’t admit it.

“I do. I like him,” Seungcheol finally decides. He stares at Chan resolutely, with as much firmness as Chan did on the streets when the boy had held Jeonghan close to him and away from Seungcheol. He decides here and now that he doesn’t want to lose. He’ll put up a fight for Jeonghan’s affection as much as Chan has.

It seems like Chan comes to an understanding, nods, then begins saying a series of things that make Seungcheol’s heart drop to his stomach.

“Jeonghan doesn’t have feelings for me. He could never.” Chan sounds so sure while he turns away from him.

“What are you talking about?” Seungcheol asks, the pit of his stomach stirring.

Chan stands silently, eyes washing over the figure under the sheets, deep in slumber. “You’re jealous,” he says. “I can see it from your eyes. It’s funny, in its own sort of silly, twisted way,” Chan gives a little laugh despite nothing in his tone being humorous to Seungcheol at all.

The night sky casts a blue-washed light over the room, the shadows settling heavily against Chan’s silhouette as he stands overlooking Jeonghan’s bed.

“You want to know why Jeonghan adores me so much? What the thing you can’t figure out from the moment you saw me was?” Chan looks to him, shoulders broader, standing taller and stronger than Seungcheol has ever seen him before. He thinks this might be what it’s like from Jeonghan’s eyes when he speaks about Chan with an ocean of fondness and an excitement in his voice.

Chan stands, iron-willed and ready.

“It’s because I’m family. He adores me because I’m his _little brother_. My dad and his mom had an affair and that makes me his... _half-brother_.”

 _What?_ Seungcheol knows his mind screaming, but his mouth doesn’t form the words.

He can feel his limbs growing weaker, his fingers trembling when they form a fist. Seungcheol’s pupils shake, round orbs framed by a stony face. The world tremors, blurring from side to side. “Why...” he manages to force out with a quivering voice, “...why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to _know_ ,” Chan says with conviction, “You’re good for him. I haven’t been Jeonghan’s little brother for long. You’ve probably even known him longer than I have. But since then, since I found out, he’s been my world. These days, hyung doesn’t sleep or eat if it's not vodka and those grainy, dry granola bars. But with you, he was better. Better than before, when he was coping with whatever mess that stupid, abusive, asshole ex left him in. With you, he actually tried, you know, sometimes — to be happy.”

Seungcheol swallows and tries to suppress the lurching of the his stomach and his whole respiratory system with it.

Chan knows that Seungcheol is a Choi. He knows that his family and Jeonghan’s family has been fighting a long and tiring war for domination over South Korea’s media for a whole decade. And he should also know that the powerful people of South Korea hide their lovers away from their spouses, away from the public knowledge because of money, because of pride, and most importantly, because of shame. There is nothing more powerful than a dirty, decade-festering secret.

Chan, with his daring dreams and impulsive youth, knowing all of this, has done something that he can’t take back.

  


And Seungcheol tries to oppress it, the sheer dread and haunting force that looms over him the whole drive back. But it lingers there in the corner of his eye, deep into his bones, and in every crevice of his mind.

He tightens his hold over the wheel, gripping the leather with white knuckles and stiff knees that stretch down to the pedals. He thinks of Chan’s parting words to him.

_“You know how important what I told is. Make good use of it. Don’t make me regret it.”_

_Chan wrapped his fingers against the door, rounded tips pressing into an alabaster white onto the wood and pressed his words onto Seungcheol’s heart, squeezing it and squeezing it in his tight hold._

_“Do what you’re supposed to do. Fix this.”_

In a matter of seconds, Chan has given him the power to bring the entire Yoon empire crumbling down onto its knees.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are yall about to fight me?? throw hands?? if yes, **kudo** / **subscribe** / **comment** !  
>  live tweets + rants + q's:  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/214YOONS) / [twt](https://twitter.com/214YOONS) @ 214YOONS
> 
> so..... yall are waiting for smut right?? and im letting you down but pls...... wait a lil bit more. this is my baby !! it also takes a month to update !! does not mean discontinued !!  
> so i threw several cards out .... gangnam in chaos .... friendships being torn apart .... legacies gon be shattered


	9. CHECKMATE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **checkmate.** _noun._ \ ˈchek-ˌmāt \  
>  1 a winning position in chess in which you have put the other player's king under a direct attack from which it cannot escape  
> 2 a final defeat or deadlock  
>  _synonyms:_ corner, outwit, beat, stop, triumph, vanquish

It is easier said than done. At the end of the day, Seungcheol has done something he cannot take back and Jeonghan has also done something he cannot take back. So even if Seungcheol knows what he has chosen, he still sits back lost in the chaos and confusion of it all.

Seungcheol watches Hansol, seeing the other sigh for the millionth time. He checks his phone all the time now, sometimes—well, most of the time—with dazed and sullen eyes.

Chan’s words gnaw at his heart again. It could be so easy. It could be so easy to end the Yoons just like that. Make Jeonghan stop all this cycle of hurt. It’s frustrating because he doesn’t want the two of them to end like this. Seungcheol holds so much power in his hand, and the playing field will never be leveled ever again.

Wonwoo settles into the armchair beside him with a disappointed shake of the head. “I really don’t know what that boy is thinking.”

Seungcheol watches Hansol’s eyebrows bunch up, a desolate gaze onto his screen.

“He wants to chase his dreams. Is that so bad?”

“....No. I guess not. But still, it’s hurting Seungkwan too much. And Seungkwan is not only his boyfriend but his best friend — his soulmate. Seungkwan’s the love of his life.”

Seungcheol turns and reads Wonwoo’s expression. The side of his face seems so wistful. Common for Wonwoo to contemplate such things, discuss human behavior and society. But still, it’s not like Wonwoo’s a stranger to this situation.

He thinks of Jihoon’s words.

_The person I love? There is only one. And that isn’t something that can be replaced or changed._

“And how did you handle it?” Seungcheol asks.

“What?” Wonwoo turns, confused.

“You hide your relationship from your parents. From us. Even though I know that it’s both your decisions, you seemed to be the one who was more mad about it — that day at the restaurant. And Mingyu... he’s hurting.” Seungcheol ends it almost as a question, careful not to insult Wonwoo. But he thinks of the way Mingyu’s face crumbled when he looked away from Wonwoo like he was ashamed for not being careful enough.

Wonwoo tilts his head down in contemplation. His face that shone in the filtered sunlight now has a shadow cast over it. “How _do_ I handle it — you mean.” Present tense. Still ongoing.

“So why?”

“I feel sorry for him. I wonder which god cursed him to fall in love with a person like me? I had been the one to come out first. I was scared and Mingyu—” Wonwoo’s lips lift in a small fond laugh as he thinks of the memory, “he came out to his parents, all of a sudden by the way, to _show solidarity_. His words.”

Seungcheol remembers that. They had all knew back then in middle school that Wonwoo was scared and worried about telling his parents he was gay, but then Mingyu showed up the next day to school announcing with such pride and boldness that he too was gay. Seungcheol wonders if even back then, Mingyu had liked Wonwoo all that time.

“We grew up together and now our families know _two_ gay boys. What a perfect coincidence,” Wonwoo spit out bitterly. “They would tease us whenever we met or when I mentioned that I was hanging out with Mingyu specifically. I guess I was kind of embarrassed. And still a little bit scared. I think....I think that my family is only accepting because it’s Mingyu. Like if it wasn’t him, they wouldn’t know how to accept the fact that I’m gay.”

“But it _is_ him?” Seungcheol nudges in question.

Wonwoo glances at him then flitters down, fingers picking at a broken strand in the armchair. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

“Why unfortunately?”

“Because Mingyu doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve any of this.” Wonwoo huffs, curling himself into a ball. Insecurity reverts Wonwoo back to looking much younger—like his teenage self. “If only I wasn't so paranoid. If only I could be as open as he is, say _it doesn’t matter what they think_. But I’m so scared. And it’s hurting Mingyu because I know he wants to tell our parents. He wants to be able to take me on dates without sneaking around. To hug me in the morning even if there are people on the streets.”

Wonwoo’s voice shakes, “But I can’t. I don’t know how. I’m so afraid and I don’t think I’m ready.”

Seungcheol’s mind can’t help but drift off. He runs the scenarios and the what if’s. If Mingyu were Jeonghan... Jeonghan, who doesn’t like kisses but planted one on Seungcheol, full on the mouth, seduced him, and ruined him. Jeonghan whose hand trembles when Seungcheol grips at his hips, quivering fingers that pry his hand off.

He feels _something_ for Seungcheol, but he’s afraid and he’s hurting. Yet Seungcheol pushes his boundaries every single time.

Wonwoo turns to him, eyes glimmering in hopelessness. “What would you do?”

“You’re going to keep hurting him. If he wants it, if that’s what Mingyu wants and you love him, either way you’re going to end up revealing your relationship or.....”

_Or you break up._

Seungcheol lets the phrase hang off his mouth, never enough to escape his lips.

Wonwoo’s face grows white much to Seungcheol’s horror. One of Wonwoo’s hands clutches at the front of his shirt like if Seungcheol says anymore, if he were to press against his own chest, he might not feel a heartbeat anymore.

They both clam up into a dreaded silence, both afraid of speaking ill fortunes. They’re both terrified of those unsaid words, almost as if saying it would make it come true.

Seungcheol would be patient. He would wait and hurt instead for a million years if that’s what it takes. So that Jeonghan doesn’t. So that Seungcheol he does not hold his hand to his chest and one day feel like it stopped beating.

  


✳✳✳

  


**GANGNAM GIRL**  
@GN_GOSSIP ∙ 15 dec 2018  
Even though exams have ended, our cousin H is spotted still going on dates with Senior Jinah. Couple status confirmed?

[](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/fb/10/c8/fb10c88326b77003c1e159aae8d4d8f9.jpg)

 **238** replies ∙ **3.6K** retweets ∙ **4.1K** likes

  


✳✳✳

  


The library on campus was partially filled. Kids who were taking winter classes took up the seats vacated by the rush of exams that just passed. Seungkwan and Jeonghan roamed the poetry sections, looking for some short story content to broadcast for the straggling kids still on campus.

Jeonghan slid his fingers past several titles on the shelves, reaching the end of the aisle. He didn’t notice Seungkwan’s increasingly agitated expression as he browsed persistently.

“Oh no, here he comes,” Seungkwan says from beside him.

Jeonghan sees Seungkwan’s head turned to the aisle entrance on the other side. There are firm footsteps, becoming louder and louder, growing with speed and distance. Jeonghan can’t explain why, but for some reason he felt the need to hide. And that’s why his feet side stepped forward into the next aisle before Hansol could see him.

Through the cracks between books, he sees Hansol appear at the other end, walking briskly towards Seungkwan like a man desperately running out of time.

“Go away, Hansol. I don’t want to talk to you.” Seungkwan turns back to the books, and for a second, Jeonghan is nervous that Hansol will look his way, but the boy’s eyes never stray from Seungkwan.

Jeonghan keeps his back pressed against the shelf on his side, watching as the scene before him plays out through the cracks.

“Seungkwan, please.” Hansol places a hand on the shelf, slightly leaning onto it as Seungkwan only fiddles with the books in front of him.

Seungkwan faces fully away from him, or rather he doesn’t have the courage to face Hansol.

“Seungkwan, you know what they say isn’t true.” Hansol moves closer now. He places a hand gently on Seungkwan’s wrist. But that’s all, it’s just resting there.

Seungkwan’s lower lip wobbles and Jeonghan knows this is his doing but still, maybe it was something about seeing something he’s not supposed to see, something about how he is just a mere inches away from the conversation, too intimate and private. Seungkwan is completely heartbroken and he’s trying his best to not let it show on his face. This alone makes Jeonghan’s guts twist together.

“We’re on a break, Hansol-ah,” he says.

Hansol rips his hand away from Seungkwan’s wrist, pain creasing into his eye wrinkles. “Why are you listening to what everyone else says but you don’t listen to me!”

“I don’t know how to trust you!” Seungkwan’s the one yelling this time.

Every word is clear to their ears in the quiet literature section. Seungkwan turns up to Hansol, facing him, pout prominent and not in the cute, whining way they were accustomed to. This one is real. This one is genuine upset, accompanied by glistening eyes and tears shining in the sunlight.

And Hansol looks back at him, pressed lips almost white. It’s even more painful. Hansol has a million more things to say, but he bites his tongue, repressing the hurt inside for Seungkwan’s sake.

Jeonghan inhales, reminding himself to breathe. He doesn’t know why his heart is beating so fast or when his grip on the shelf behind him became so tight.

Hansol looks as if his heart is tearing itself apart in front of him.

“I love you,” he says to Seungkwan. If only that could fix the rips in their relationship now.

Three simple words. Empty meanings if they don’t have any action after it.

“Does she know that?” Jeonghan hears his own voice say.

He can hear the rushing in his ears as he steps out from behind the shelf and into their aisle. It’s automatic, every step and every word, even though Jeonghan is not thinking this through at all. He can’t help but want to be _heard_.

“Does Lee Jinah know that you love Seungkwan? Does _anybody_ know that you love Seungkwan?” Jeonghan’s eyes must look chilled over, icy and sharp. “It really would be quite simple — just say that you’re already seeing someone else, Hansol-ah.”

Hansol’s surprise from seeing him is overpowered by hearing the words from Jeonghan’s mouth. “Hyung...”

To hear the word _hyung_ from Hansol’s mouth now only makes him more enraged.

“But you won’t. You’ll keep leading Jinah on and you’ll let everyone gossip because you’re more worried about yourself. You want to be put in the program and you know that Jinah will do that if you keep flirting with her. But what about Seungkwan? What about him? What about _his_ feelings, Hansol? You knew from the start that Seungkwan has never been confident in the first place.”

Hansol’s expression gets progressively worse. His features twist, becoming mangled in the panic and despair as Jeonghan hits every word straight into his heart. Consecutive blows aiming to kill.

“You love Seungkwan. But not enough. Doesn’t it keep happening? That time in your backyard, at Jun’s parties, with your family? Seungkwan will never be enough. Because that’s easier. Just pretend everything is fine, shove it all under the carpet so your dreams will come true. And that’s how it is — how it will be. You’ll keep putting yourself over Seungkwan every single time.”

 _Choi’s,_ he thinks, _they’re all the same._

Hansol only looks down at his boyfriend for a response. “That’s not true, Seungkwan.”

But Seungkwan’s eyes are red and cried out. His lips remain tightly shut.

Hansol completely breaks down. A man going on like a broken record. “Seungkwan, please..... Boo?”

Jeonghan has said his part today. He has said all of and he doesn’t think he can say anymore because the soreness in his throat, that itch at the corner of his eyes are all telling him to _repress it_.

He keeps his cool-headed facade, walking out of the aisle.

“Seungkwan. Let’s go.”

 

When Jeonghan sends Seungkwan off with a small, gentle smile, he watches the other boy walk until he turns the corner and is no longer in sight.

Then, Jeonghan collapses.

He barely has time to find foundation against a wall before he’s kneeling onto the ground, breath coming out in gasps and his hands trembling violently. His heart is in his throat and he thinks he might just retch.

With weak fingers, Jeonghan does the first thing he can think of. He calls the one person who has been through it all, the only person he can confide in now without judgment. The one person who should not trust him, but he does, _oh,_ he does.

The dial tone starts up.

_“Hello? Hanie?”_

The soft and gentle voice sounds next to Jeonghan’s ear. It should be relieving, but this makes Jeonghan more afraid. Even this cannot be solved by the kindest person in the world.

“ _Shua_ ,” Jeonghan sobs. He’s dry heaving into the receiver, eyelashes becoming wet. “Shua.... shua, what do I do? I’m—” Jeonghan’s knees falter. He’s all out of strength and his legs can’t hold him or his emotions up anymore. “I’m so scared.”

_“Where are you? Are you hurt? What’s going on, Han?”_

“Shua, shua....” Jeonghan just keeps crying into the receiver.

Joshua stays on the line even though all he hears is Jeonghan’s shaky breaths into the mic. “ _It’s okay. Han, it’s okay._ ” 

Understanding and patient as always.

Jeonghan swallows this and thinks if anyone would understand, it’s Joshua.

“I slept with him.” He dry heaves, short-breathed and tearing up. “I slept with Seungcheol. And now I’m so afraid. Shua...what am I going to do?”

  


✳✳✳

  


He met Jaehyun when he started modeling in high school. Jaehyun was someone who was older by two years and already settled in the modeling industry. Jeonghan looked up to Jaehyun, this older man, mature with ambition, who gave him attention and care. And still looked up to Jaehyun even after Jeonghan had started getting bigger gigs than the man.

All of Jeonghan’s previous boyfriends were easy. Give them a little attention, a little money and power, and they’d flock to Jeonghan’s feet anywhere, any time of the day.

But not Jaehyun. No, Jaehyun played hard to get.

It was clear from Jaehyun’s eyes, piercing and glass-like translucence, the way his gaze slid down Jeonghan’s body said how much he wanted Jeonghan. They flirted for fun, late night mountain drives, expensive dinners in sky-high restaurants, making out in the corner of the room at parties. Jaehyun would show up with flowers, shower him with timely placed compliments and trace his fingers up Jeonghan’s arm, a seductive and risque caress.

But he never wanted to settle.

He made Jeonghan feel special though. He was older, more established, and Jeonghan almost put him on a pedestal. Looking back on it now, Jeonghan can see why Jaehyun never wanted to say the words to make it official, to give Jeonghan the peace of mind, the sense of safety and a promise of Jaehyun’s commitment.

He wanted to make Jeonghan break first.

Jeonghan was inexperienced with someone like Jaehyun, smooth like no one else, brilliant and well-versed in making Jeonghan bring down all his walls. Jeonghan would never give his first time to someone who he couldn’t trust completely. And being inexperienced made Jeonghan feel so small with Jaehyun.

He had always shrugged away, shameful eyes and sweaty palms, saying _I’m not ready, I’m not comfortable_ when they were close to having sex. _You’re so cute and naive, just like a kid,_ Jaehyun would reason afterwards.

And then Jaehyun would look at other girls the same way he’d look at Jeonghan and it made his veins fill with rage. There was a whole world of unobtainables and they were all for Jaehyun’s taking. But this one thing that everyone wanted— _Jeonghan_ , he could have but didn’t want. _He couldn’t just fucking wait._ Perhaps it was just Jeonghan’s fucked up personality that made him attracted to people who would never give him any attention, and it just made him more attracted to Jaehyun.

They had a fight that night. Their first big fight where Jaehyun looked down on him with his cold, translucent eyes and mocked him in that straight-laced tone, _you wouldn’t understand even if I told you._ And even though Jeonghan was just two years younger, he was no match for Jaehyun who had mastered keeping the attention of unloved boys just like him.

So when Jeonghan went to the party at the nightclub Junhui reserved, the same place and the same day of Vernon’s birthday celebration, _just for the shits and giggles_ , Junhui had said, because the rivalry was always only between Jeonghan and Seungcheol, but Jeonghan was knocking on trouble’s doorstep.

 

Down the long hallway of the private section of the nightclub, room reservations were separated. Junhui had reserved the rooms on the right side of the hallway and the left side was reserved for Vernon’s celebration. Jeonghan had wondered how much money Junhui threw to the owners to make them give half of Seungcheol’s reservation to him. That night might have even been the first time he had met young Boo Seungkwan, who provided the noraebang machines to the club, he was growing into his limbs but baby-faced as always.

He wanted to get in trouble. So Jeonghan slowly led his party towards Vernon’s party and when he stepped into the room, he set his eyes on Seungcheol and that’s when Jeonghan started baiting Seungcheol to try to get him riled up, to get him to hurt Jeonghan, so Jeonghan could hurt him back.

So then, Jeonghan would have an excuse to do something reckless.

Jeonghan didn’t really know what he was thinking but all he knew was that he wanted to hurt. He wanted to hurt Jaehyun and to do that, he would do the most spiteful thing possible. Give something away that Jaehyun had been longing for.

It all started with little quips across the room.

_“How much of your daddy’s money did you spend tonight, Choi?”_

_“More than what you make in a night!”_

Then across the table.

_“All the kids here are shitfaced just to get through this boring party.”_

_“At least I didn’t have to get kids into my wallet to get them to show up.”_

Then on the opposite sides of a couch.

_“Your dick’s probably shriveled like the sahara desert, it’s begging for any kind of action.”_

_“But you’ve been around enough to run multiple laps around a track, huh Yoon?”_

Until they were standing and yelling in each other’s faces that everyone had slowly backed up and moved the party to another room.

“And every girl who would sleep with you probably has STDs.”

“Oh yeah and your taste in boyfriends have been fantastic, _I’m sure._ ”

Their voices were loud in the now empty place. Seungcheol was red in the face and Jeonghan was panting. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. Seungcheol’s eyes strayed down before coming back up to Jeonghan in the eyes, his pupils blown out and veins straining against his neck.

Jeonghan remembers light music playing in the background as he took a step forward, then another, closer and closer until he pushed Seungcheol back into the cushioned seat. There was nothing in his head except the way Seungcheol had looked at him. Those eyes that he wanted, the look he longed for, _finally_. There was safety in Seungcheol. They’d known each other for three years already — that’s 36 months. He was predictable. Jeonghan always knew how he would react.

Seungcheol easily gave, not like Jaehyun.

Seungcheol winced but his eyes never left Jeonghan’s face, dazed and confused as he looked up at Jeonghan straddling him. “Wha-what are you doing?”

“Shut up,” Jeonghan muttered and pressed his nails into the fabric of Seungcheol’s shoulders, thighs tightening itself around Seungcheol’s lap as he fully sat himself onto Seungcheol’s thighs.

“W-what—get off—”

Seungcheol sputtered, Jeonghan grunting as they engaged in a small wrestle. Jeonghan tried to remain seated, and Seungcheol tried to dislodge Jeonghan from his lap, becoming more and more frantic as Jeonghan scooted himself closer. He gripped Jeonghan’s collar, pulling the fabric bunched into his fists to drag him up and off. All while Jeonghan had both hands onto his shoulders, fingers white-knuckled as he fisted into Seungcheol’s shirt and flesh so that Seungcheol would stay put.

Their arms collided, elbows pushing into ribs, grunts of pain, pulling and pushing on one another until Seungcheol had reached his blowing point and lifted his upper body, pushing Jeonghan off with his thighs and sending Jeonghan sprawling into the couch.

“What is wrong with you!?” Seungcheol yelled through his huffs of air.

The fall had hurt, Jeonghan remembers feeling. But more than anything else, his heart hurt.

“What is wrong with me....what is wrong with you?!” Jeonghan pushed himself up on his elbows, fists hitting the cushions as he shouted back. His voice shook, the apples of his cheeks reddened as he continued, “Why are you acting as if I commited a crime? You were looking at me back there like you wanted me, didn’t you?”

Seungcheol went silent, just staring with his chest rising and falling, out of breath and out of words.

Jeonghan bit on his bottom lip harshly, with enough force to almost break skin.

“Or are you going to reject me too?”

Then, his eyes became glossy, tilting his head to the side as he glared at Seungcheol with contempt. This started out of spite, a game of sorts, but now Jeonghan was actually invested. He _cares._ Despite the storms in his eyes, his voice broke when he asked, “Why....am I not loveable?”

There must have been something else that changed Seungcheol’s mind at that moment. The way his eyes looked temporarily frenzied, dilating at Jeonghan slumped halfway on the couch, knees knocked carelessly together, and top buttons haphazardly ripped off through their tussle.

Seungcheol exhaled deeply from his nose, voicing out in a weak whisper, “You’re crazy...” and reached his hand out to wipe away a stray tear. Jeonghan’s face tilted forward in his palm, glistening eyes and flushed cheeks, that Seungcheol couldn’t resist and leaned over, toppling them both onto the couch and crashed their lips together.

 

To be truthful, Jeonghan doesn’t remember much about what happened after that. During _it_. He thinks it must be because it all went so fast, like a scene in a movie being played through rose-colored lenses. But of that night, he does remember one thing — being loved. At least, that’s what it felt like.

He had given up and decided to let this play out in full the moment they landed on the couch together.

Seungcheol had cupped the back of his neck in a supporting position, and their lips both became bitten and swollen red. Next thing he could remember was Seungcheol’s chest being bare, hovering over him with deep, warm eyes. He slid his fingers up Jeonghan’s stomach, shirt unbuttoned, tracing the outline of his ribs, and kissed lovely, dark bruises into his skin. Jeonghan’s nerves grew electric, back arched at irregular intervals, hips canting abruptly, and every sound out of him was a gasp and a moan.

It was wet, around his thighs and down his ass when Seungcheol prepped him. Jeonghan had brought his arm up to hide his face as Seungcheol twisted his fingers inside him — a blur of arousal that all Jeonghan remembers is how much it hurt to be throbbing down there and how much his back hurt from the arching, pain and pleasure dipping in and out from his consciousness. He couldn’t control the movement of his body and could only give in to the euphoria of each nerve being stimulated.

When Seungcheol fucked into Jeonghan, it was with the strangest delicacy and care. Seungcheol had Jeonghan basically wrapped completely in his arms, hugging and holding Jeonghan in one arm, while the other hand was placed at his hip. His thumb soothed up and down and up and down Jeonghan’s hipbone, almost like reassurance.

A time before Jeonghan was self-conscious.

They moved erotically on the couch, Jeonghan’s body undulating as his head bobbed from the force of Seungcheol’s thrusts. Jeonghan saw stars shooting against a black night when his eyes were closed and when they were open, he saw the dancing lights against a cream background. The ceiling above them was a blur from the tears clinging to his eyelashes. Neon lights were bouncing about on the ceiling, dancing together as a song played softly in the background.

Jeonghan could hear how Seungcheol grunted in his ear, his breath tickling his skin, and felt how his cheeks heated up even more when Jeonghan couldn’t contain his moans in response. Their noises played like a harmony together in the small room.

But just as he felt loved, he was abandoned that night too.

Seungcheol had left Jeonghan after he drifted off to sleep after their orgasm. When Jeonghan woke up, he was alone and naked. His button down was open and on top of him was Seungcheol’s blazer draped over his body.

Voices outside drifted through the door. When Jeonghan had gotten dressed and opened the door, he stood in the doorway looking into the hallway. It was Seungcheol standing outside, surrounded by his friends and a gaggle of girls.

Seungcheol looked back at him down the hallway, eyes clear of any sign of what they did before, and simply turned back to the girl tugging on his sleeve to follow her back to the party.

  


✳✳✳

  


“Why do you stay with me?”

Jeonghan and Joshua sat on the steps of the long-vacated library stairway, Joshua shivering in his snow-melting clothes and Jeonghan sniffing through his stuffy nose.

“Because you never gave me a reason to leave.” Joshua takes Jeonghan’s hand in his and gives a gentle smile.

Jeonghan and Joshua. They are like two separate sides of a coin. They matched well through the years, through many months of observation and teaching Joshua just what being a _Yoon_ means. Jeonghan also learned that Joshua’s family is close to the bible-thumping, God-fearing, white picket fence with three kids and a dog kind of people. Joshua’s the farthest thing anyone would expect as Jeonghan’s best friend.

And yet, _a decade_. They’ve been together for that long.

Jeonghan just exhales like he had little faith in Joshua’s reasoning.

“Jeonghan, you’re real. I didn’t understand why you did all of those things at first, even when we were in middle school. But I realized as time went by that if I never gave you any reason to treat me like a _Hong_ , like the competitor for your dad’s position, then you would treat me like I was just _Joshua_.”

He smiles nostalgically and leans his wet head onto Jeonghan’s shoulder.

“You’re more real than any person in Gangnam. Because we have power and money, you know how hard it is to find a real friend? Even if you’re aren’t kind or good, even if you’re spiteful and juvenile, at least I know you’re _loyal_. I know you’ll never hurt me.”

Joshua faces Jeonghan with an impish grin that he learned from his best friend, “ _We’re ride or die,_ Yoon Jeonghan,” he says in English.

  


✳✳✳

  


“You did _what?”_

Jeonghan places his mug down on the marble counter, facing Chan on the other side.

“I told him that I’m your little brother and that our parents had an affair,” Chan replies back to him so simply.

“I heard you,” Jeonghan glares at the younger. “Why on earth would you do that? Do you know what this means?”

“Because I wanted to do something for you!” Chan quips back quickly before grumbling, expression sullen like a kid being scolded.

He is being scolded because Jeonghan is the only adult in this house apparently.

“Chan-ah.. what are you even talking about?” Jeonghan tries to approach this topic delicately.

He knows that who or what Chan tells his friends isn’t Jeonghan’s choice, but still — he’s the main character of the certain topic being spoken of, he’d like some control.

“I know he’s the reason why Minghao hyung is in the hospital and why I am in—” Chan flails in a wild gesture at his walking cast, “this. I know you think it’s his fault. It isn’t, by the way. Hwang Yuna is just a psycho.”

Jeonghan snarls at the mention of that wretched girl.

And seeing Jeonghan’s obvious displeasure, Chan quickly continues, “I know that you’re mad. Mad at him for doing this to me. It really isn’t Seungcheol hyung’s fault. Please stop doing this _thing_ to them.”

Jeonghan wrinkles his nose at the word _hyung_ coming out of Chan’s mouth.

“Chan, he put you in this state. You aren’t able to perform in the showcase because of _him_. He is _not_ the kind of person you think he is. He is not good.”

“But you’re sad!”

Jeonghan almost flinches back at Chan’s outburst. It’s sudden and full of emotion. Nothing he wants his little brother to worry about. Chan’s eyes droop the way Jeonghan’s does. And he thinks, in this way they’re similar.

“You think by hurting him, you can avenge me or something. But it’s only making you sad, hyung. I just want to protect you.”

Jeonghan tries to find his footing again. Is this what having a little brother supposed to be like? “Chan-ah, I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of _you_. How can I do that when you tell him about us?”

“Protect me from what? I’m not the one who will get hurt.”

“You will. People will talk. People...” people like my mother, like your father, like everyone Jeonghan puts on a show for, “People like me, Chan.”

For a second, it’s quiet as Chan absorbs the older’s words. Then, he looks at Jeonghan with his droopy eyes, fond and sad.

“Hyung....do you know what I was thinking when I found you?” Chan’s brows furrow as he looks at his hands emptily. “I thought _everything makes sense._ The way mom loved me excessively like she poured every last of her efforts of her marriage into me. But it was never enough for my dad. Slowly, everyone in my family became more estranged.”

Jeonghan remembers that day they met, the way Chan lit up when he asked _‘Are you him? Yoon Jeonghan? The only son of the Yoons’_ with his eyes wide like pearls. Chan’s face was still small and babyish, the skin under his eyes was sunken but those black orbs shined brighter than anything he’d ever seen.

 _Hope_ , Jeonghan remembered thinking when he met Chan. _This child has so much hope._

So he says, “Your parents tried really hard to raise you the best they could, Chan.”

Because Chan still has so much more than Jeonghan ever could — parents that still love him anyways.

“No, I think...” Chan’s eyes fluttered as his fingers danced against the countertop, “my mom thought that by having me, having a child would keep my father with her. But it didn’t work. And every time my mom would look at me, I would seem like a failure in her eyes. Then, my dad tries to excessively control me. I didn’t know how to handle knowing about my dad’s affair. My life was a complete lie.”

Chan turns with his black pearls, wide and gleaming, everything Jeonghan adored, and smiled with his boyish grin at Jeonghan. “But when I found you... you picked me up, hyung. You gave me a family. You _are_ my family. The family I never had. You support me in a way my dad has never, and you love me without any reason like my mom never has.”

Chan smiles through his glistening eyes. “I’m happy. I’m really happy, hyung.”

Jeonghan reaches out and thumbs away Chan’s streaming tears. “I’m happy you’re here too.”

  


✳✳✳

  


cousin (Face With Look Of Triumph)

**Hansol**

— i think seungkwan is going to break up with me

— hyung...

— if i cut ties with jinah sunbae will seungkwan come back to me?

  


✳✳✳

  


**GANGNAM GIRL**  
@GN_GOSSIP ∙ 20 dec 2018  
King seen rushing into the SNU's social science building. And it just so happens the broadcast club is in session for winter. 

[](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/70/90/20/70902029f01281b5201e6bf0250cf54f.jpg)

**134** replies ∙ **2.2K** retweets ∙ **3.6K** likes

  


✳✳✳

  


Jeonghan waited a long time after what Chan told him. Jeonghan has waited a whole week, and Seungcheol has done nothing. So he’s been waiting in lush restaurant booths, staring at the doorways. He stares at his phone, hoping for a certain name to pop up.

Jeonghan’s hair has lost its usual shine and all his assistants are feeling the stress buzzing around him. Jeonghan tends to relieve his stress that way. Either by stressing other people out or destroying himself. But of course, Jeonghan is great at multitasking.

So when everything seems normal, Jeonghan’s university broadcasting team preparing for the end of the year celebrations, their regular scheduled program for the remaining students still on campus for winter classes, and specialized messages for graduation send-offs, Jeonghan is finally in his element and his mind doesn’t have to do any worrying.

That’s when Seungcheol chooses to come in.

The door to their broadcasting studio slams open with a bang. Heads turn. Seungcheol stands on the other side, all wide shoulders and heavy brows. His hand clutches his phone in a death grip.

It’s been just a few weeks but it feels as if it’s been months. Seungcheol is still as handsome as the first day Jeonghan saw him when he came back, even when Seungcheol’s just standing there in the doorway, a few feet away from him. It makes his heart tight inside his chest.

Then, Seungcheol steps inside the studio. Every single person in the room freezes, some even taking one step back. All of their heads turn halfway towards Jeonghan, assessing his reaction.

Jeonghan steels himself. The chair screeches terribly loudly when he stands up.

“Everyone outside,” he orders.

And they file out slowly — his assistants, Yerin, Solbin, and Moonbin, his writer, Doyoung, graphics editor, Jeongguk, and Seungkwan — all shuffling to the door awkwardly while shooting strange glances at Seungcheol.

The door shuts with a click, ominous and final. The two stand in a face-off like Jeonghan is battling for something — for his life, for Chan’s life, and he has to win.

He puts a brave face on. “So you’ve finally decided to come?”

Jeonghan throws down his stack of papers and leans against the table, slightly sitting on the edge. He crosses his arms in a show of nonchalance.

But they both know that Jeonghan is not in the position to act haughty right now.

Seungcheol has an unreadable expression.

_It’s not fair at all._

Jeonghan has to be the one who’s vulnerable right now. While Seungcheol stands there with the upper hand, not knowing what or where he’s thinking.

“I think it was time that we talked,” Seungcheol says.

“What is there to talk about?” Jeonghan quips back sharply. “You already know everything.”

Seungcheol takes a big inhale, head tilted down. “I didn’t know, Jeonghan. I really didn’t. If I did—”

“What’s the use of saying it now?”

Jeonghan swipes his palms against his jeans. It’s sweaty. He’s nervous because this is make or break.

“So,” Jeonghan starts calmly, “what do you want?”

Seungcheol faces him, brows furrowed and lips pursed. He doesn’t respond fast enough so Jeonghan continues.

“You can have anything now, I guess. Whether it’s your cousin’s career and his love life or even me. You can have it all now. You’re on top.”

“Jeonghan—”

But Jeonghan just laughs, sardonic and deep, “You finally get what you wanted, huh. A real reason that you can look down on me.”

“Why would I look down you?” Seungcheol asks in a breathy tone. That makes Jeonghan pause.

He takes a step forward, “Let me speak. Just for a moment, Jeonghan.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t know about Chan being your brother. If I knew that he was an illegitimate child, I still wouldn’t look down on your family. You took him in and—”

_Oh._

The way Seungcheol’s eyes glisten makes it seem like the lights in the room are dancing, “Chan said you’re his world. Anyone can see how much you adore him.”

So Seungcheol doesn’t know. He doesn’t actually know the whole truth.

But Jeonghan says nothing about that. “So what is it you want,” he stares at the ground, voice ice cold.

“Jeonghan...”

The only thing in his vision is Seungcheol’s brown shoes, stepping closer step closer until they’re right in front of him. Seungcheol’s hands brush onto Jeonghan’s knees.

“I originally came here to tell you to stop this,” he hears Seungcheol say. “Seungkwan is going to break up with Hansol. And I know it’s your doing.”

A knot forms in Jeonghan’s throat.

“But now...” Seungcheol’s voice is raspy in his ears, “all I want to do is say sorry. I’m sorry for trying to using your friends. I’m sorry for hurting your little brother. I didn’t know....it was wrong of me.”

What the hell? What happened to _“what’s the difference between the way you used my friends and the way I used yours?”_ What does this make Jeonghan if Seungcheol apologizes first?

Jeonghan stables his trembling hand by forming a fist against his jeans and taking deep breaths.

Why is he shaking?

“Jeonghan...” Seungcheol says again.

There’s a whimper crawling up his throat. He can’t bear to face Seungcheol, or else the other would see what kind of facial expression he’s making. And Jeonghan thinks that he might look like he’s crying right now.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol’s feet shuffle.

Then, he’s sinking to his knees.

A choke crawls up Jeonghan’s throat. He startles as Seungcheol knocks his forehead onto Jeonghan’s thighs.

“I lose.”

Seungcheol....he’s _begging_.

“If you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine. If you want to stay friends, that’s fine too. I won’t tell anyone about Chan. I promise on my life. Whatever you want.” Jeonghan can feel Seungcheol’s sigh through his jeans, warm and weary. “I lose. I lose—so just .... just stop hurting. Please.”

Jeonghan has Seungcheol at his feet begging, but not for himself—for Jeonghan.

There has been a lot of people who dared beg for forgiveness, sorry’s spilling from their lips like spoiled milk. But only because Jeonghan pushed them, because he broke them. Jeonghan has done exactly that. He’s broken Seungcheol in. Even though Seungcheol could have Jeonghan at his feet, chained to him forever, Seungcheol is the one on his knees.

_And for what? Why?_

“Don’t—” Jeonghan chokes out.

There’s a shudder that travels down Seungcheol’s body. His body seems to slump even heavier against Jeonghan’s knees, his breath warm through the fabric of Jeonghan’s jeans.

The seconds count down, the two of them frozen in time in their positions, closer than ever in two weeks, stripped naked until all their emotions are bared for the universe to observe.

Finally, Seungcheol murmurs so heartbreakingly quiet.

“I’ll go.”

He then gets up to his feet. The sight of Seungcheol’s back turning is a little like dying. A part of his heart crumbles down, breaking off in one piece, so clean and easy.

_Don’t_

Jeonghan’s hand catches Seungcheol’s wrist. It’s firm at first, but then loses its grip after a second, like hesitance. Seungcheol turns back towards Jeonghan. The male has his eyes downturned, one arm on Seungcheol’s, and another hand fisted on his lap.

“Jeonghan?”

He says nothing back, even though his grip on Seungcheol squeezed, almost as if telling him to wait. Jeonghan bit down on his lip harshly, hand in his lap white-knuckled.

Seungcheol presses his hand gently over it, brushing his thumb against the knuckles. Left to right then left to right again.

And when Jeonghan speaks, his voice comes out raw and desperate, like a voice that’s been cried out but his face is void of any tear marks, features strong yet sad like a soldier who has already gone through too many trials.

“Don’t go,” he says. “Please, don’t go.”

Seungcheol exhales and all the weight on his shoulders slide right off. He leans in and takes Jeonghan in his arms, settling his head in the crook of his neck. “I’m not going anywhere, Hanie. Not if you don’t want me to.”

A couple moments pass before, Seungcheol says something, mumbled into Jeonghan’s hair.

“Do you know that while the weeks passed, what I thought about? I was worried...I might never see you again. And my heart just ached every single time. But I also thought a lot about us. To you, games are about pride. But your family, your friends are just an extension of it. I hurt your pride, so you’d hurt mines.”

Seungcheol gave a heavy sigh, the weight of his shoulders leaning onto Jeonghan’s.

“Then it will be just us, going around in circles, playing this game forever. I hurt you and you hurt me. I want to stop, Jeonghan. Let’s stop playing this game, hm?”

Jeonghan’s shudders, breath stuttering into damp skin. _You can’t escape the game. We’re in it. For life._ But he says none of that and just buries his face further into Seungcheol’s coat.

They fall back into the silence again, it’s just Jeonghan’s breath slow and in sync with his. They stay there like that for a while until Jeonghan’s breathing has evened out.

 

It’s Seungcheol who finally breaks the silence again.

“I guess I should go now,” his voice soft and acquiescing.

“Wait.” Jeonghan stops him again with a hand around his wrist. “About Hansol—I’ll take care of it. I-I’m sorry,” he swallows. Jeonghan has never had to apologize before.

Seungcheol gives a gentle smile, says a quiet _“ok”_ and steps to the door.

Jeonghan keeps his back against the table, watching his backside. He’s confused as Seungcheol stops at the door, one hand on the handle for a second to long, before seeing Seungcheol take a sharp turn back, facing him again. Jeonghan almost steps back, jolted at the way Seungcheol looks at him. He’s got a fire in his eyes and a goal between his pressed lips.

Seungcheol marches towards Jeonghan, unguarded and vulnerable. He closes the distance in three steps, pressing into Jeonghan’s chest, roses and vanilla by his nose, and hooks his hands hastily under Jeonghan’s thighs, hoisting him up onto the table.

And then, he descends.

Seungcheol cups at the back Jeonghan’s neck in a way that makes him gasp, lips and legs spreading. And he takes this chance to completely devour Jeonghan, licking into his mouth, feeling every ridge and edge of the soft and the harsh. Over the sharpness of his canines and over the smooth surface of his teeth. When their tongues meet, it’s wet and gentle, licking up, pushing and twisting against each other. Quiet, little noises echo in the studio, lewd sucking and slurping yet its sugary sweetness permeates the air like the nectar of a flower. Jeonghan moans into Seungcheol’s mouth which only urges him on more.

He finally gets Jeonghan’s lips between his teeth, biting down without any sense of restraint. It’s sweet and hot and everything he’s wanted, from the way Jeonghan groans against his lips to the taste of iron flooding his taste buds when Seungcheol licks over the wound with the tip of his tongue. He assumes it’s probably painful, but he knows Jeonghan likes it from the way he whimpers, tightening his legs around Seungcheol’s waist like they couldn’t be any closer.

Each kiss is met with sugar on fire until they melt into just sweetness on their tongues, peppered into the small pecks Seungcheol works down to on Jeonghan’s lips. It’s like addictive candy, everytime Seungcheol gets another taste, he just wants more. Until all they do is press their lips together, the soft flesh meeting with only bits of pressure but each kiss is electric in each tiny burst of seconds.

They end breathing against each other, a happy humming between them.

Seungcheol forces himself to pull away, pressing his forehead onto Jeonghan’s. It’s hot and he can feel the dampness of Jeonghan’s skin pressing on his. They both pant for air while leaning against each other, both of them just not willing to move away.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you either,” Seungcheol murmurs against Jeonghan’s lips, eyes staring down Jeonghan’s dark pools and swollen pink flesh.

Seungcheol steadies himself and takes a step back, completely removing his hands from Jeonghan’s body. “Okay....okay,” he says to himself in reassurance of his restraint.

Seungcheol swallows his desire, burning up inside for now. He would do anything to just take Jeonghan here, right over this table. But he knows there are people outside, waiting for a sign of life inside the studio. A sign that the two haven’t ripped each other apart or something similar.

When Seungcheol leaves, the door stays remains closed but Jeonghan can feel his club members hovering outside the door. They’re like antsy schoolyard children peeking through the window.

He takes a few moments to stable his breath and calm down. Then he calls them back in.

When everyone shuffles back inside, they all avert their eyes, pretending to busy themselves as they did before. Yerin and Solbin back to the table, discussing the order of shoutouts, Moonbin mindlessly clacking on the keyboard.

“Seungkwan-ah,” Jeonghan calls to the boy, who swivels around mid-entrance, “you should call Hansol back now.”

Seungkwan’s stands in the doorway of their studio, face full of confusion. But Jeonghan simply gives him a small, gentle smile and sits back down at his desk.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me if this makes you happy, **kudo** / **subscribe** / **comment** !  
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> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/214YOONS) / [twt](https://twitter.com/214YOONS) @ 214YOONS
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> thanks for waiting you guys - all for this measly crumb,,,, i'm not worthy. but anyways,, i just graduated and am now looking for a job !! i'm exploring new things and am doing a social media au on twitter as well. if you're into nct follow me ! i might post a dojae/markhyuck fic in the future. hope things are going well for you guys too ♡


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